Fiery Green
by Aen Silver Fire
Summary: AU. Dessert Kingdom of Edo, Slums. He was a Captain of the Royal Guard; she a blacksmith apprentice. She thought she had nothing; he thought he had everything, but time. In a faraway land, where a shy sword-loving young woman learns to dance to the rhythm of his weakened heartbeat and he learns to love what can never be truly his."She forged my passion for her; like her blades."
1. Prologue

**A/N:** _A very inspiring, beautiful picture popped up into my mind out of seemingly nowhere just a while ago. I saw Souji's beautiful green eyes staring at me, glimmering, and behind him lay a vast dry dessert and scorching Sun ruled the land. Another image I love is the forging of blades. My crazy imagination decided to combine the two in a form of a new story. So, there you go. This is a story set in an completely Alternate Universe, which I initially never wanted to try in Hakuoki -because I like the era too much to 'abolish' it-, but inspiration cannot be held down by any rules or intentions, right? I felt the intense need to give it a try, no matter what. And, if I am lucky enough, people may respond to this positively._

_The Theme Song of this story is _** Army-Go **_from the Attack on Titan/ Shingeki no Kyojin OST. I'd really advice you to listen to it, just to get a vague feeling of what I want to portray in this strange story of mine. There is a chance I'll use it later on in the story for atmosphere building purposes, as well. Please enjoy!**  
**_

_Rated _**T** _for suggestive themes and language._

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hakuoki.

* * *

**Fiery Green**

**~Prologue~**

* * *

_How firm or possible can co-existence be,_

_When her suave fire tangles with his pleading verdant need,_

_Forms so definitely un-matching, beyond compare,_

_Unyielding in their give, breathe out despair_

_And yet he speaks of warmth, and, sick, in love he kneels_

_With eyes that can be described as nothing but_

_Fiery Green_

* * *

_Clank._

_Clank. _

A sound more familiar to her than her very breath.

_Clank._

_Ugh._

The pain induced by fingers calloused, tired and stiff was nothing more than a distant begging melody. A song long-lost shoved in the farthest, most secure chambers of her troubled mind.

_Slishhh. _

The accidental cuts were by now only a forgotten cacophony upon her otherwise perfect ivory skin, fragments of past memories entangled with the unparalleled sense of a blade grazing your body, your very being; a constant reminder of her hard work and diligence, of her struggle. Of her life.

_Clank._

Iron clashed with iron as the anvil and hammer battled each other against the merciless steel; flames dancing their own sacred cotillion, embracing the metal, stifling the atmosphere.

Glimmering droplets of sweat flew away as she quickly wiped her tense with concentration forehead.

_Clank._

_Clank._

_Phooo._

And as the blazing scorching blade was thrust, plunged into the crystal pale waters, it breathed out a smoke of relief; white soot, which ghosted over her face and figure, providing a thick shelter, concealing her from invisible clutches that threatened to impose their own steel grip on her meek and coy existence.

Sweet almond hues were effectively protected as eyelids blinked once, cleared the dust and pushed the stagnant air away.

"Yukimura-kun! Is it finished? A costumer is asking for you!"

She wiped her red from heat hands on her apron and heaved a sigh of honest weariness. She promptly spun on her heel and decisively headed towards the front."I'll be right there!"

* * *

He breathed slowly, sensually, savoring each particle of air that entered his tortured pained lungs and shut his eyes close in contained mild delight. Soon, his robe was forced wide open, exposing more of his delicate but diligently chiseled upper body, as it came into moderate view. Delicate hands masterfully caressed his toned chest and ripped abdomen, licking the rose buds on his sternum with their touch; a whisper of lust, as it ghosted over his pale skin and nibbled at his ear and strong neck.

Pink puffy lips gently came to meet his own. He responded hungrily at first, lifting his hands in order to wrap them around a thin waist. He touched _and touched _and claimed everything as he felt a daring tongue wetting his lips, begging for his optimal response, pleading with him to reciprocate.

And he complied with the silent plea. Why? Because he had, as a matter of fact, paid for it. And generously at that.

He growled passionately. And then heaved a sigh, that was soon abruptly paused midway, as if he was suddenly smothered by an invisible mighty chain. The strong surge, the unyielding wave emanating from deep within him, forcefully surfaced and soon disappeared as swiftly as it came. Gone. Just like that. But it left its impact loud and clear in his mind.

When they finally fluttered open again, green eyes stood unforgivably lackadaisical. Maybe it was because. . . He was rather used to this intimacy. He expected nothing more from it. It was just . . . business. He paid, he received. And he_ always_ received what he paid for, mind you. No other stronger attachment was to meddle and trouble this simple exchange. None.

Suddenly, the breath that threatened to overwhelm his own inside his mouth, felt so strangely arid, even putrid, stagnant.

A rational part of his mind, the one who was still left intact, silently sovereign and strong muttered that this was not possible. That he was just imagining things.

He could not help or inhibit the words that were released from his mouth only a heartbeat afterwards.

"Stop." he murmured against feverish lips and brought his two hands in front of his chest, pushing the other body away from his own. He ought to have felt rather uncomfortable losing the female's warmth. He ought to have. Surely. But, strangely, he did not.

The girl, obviously startled, looked up to his eyes and blinked twice in puzzlement. "Is there something wrong, Okita-san?" she honestly wondered and bit her lips nervously upon watching him arranging his clothes in order to look proper again. "Did I not satisfy your needs? Or I-"

Was there something wrong, really? Perhaps. Maybe there wasn't. Maybe he was just-

"I am not in the mood tonight, after all, Yamraiha," he finally decided to offer and sighed out as he pulled himself to stand on his two steady feet.

A pair of exotic eyes stared at him in pure confusion. He gave his temporary paramour a last measuring glance and brought out his pouch to present her with her deserved coins. The manner in which he finally tossed them at her lap was anything but gentle and kind.

"But. I have not yet finished my~"

"You won't need to. I am done with your companionship for the night."

"But, Okita-san-"

"See ya." He waved leisurely, stopping her mid-sentence and soon bolted out of the dim-light room, only to meet the dark blue starry sky.

_As if he was cowardly running away from something,_ he inwardly noted.

His steps were rhythmical and steady as he paced down the stairs of the infamous building. He nodded a hurried goodbye to the Brothel's security men upon meeting them in his way out and soon had fled the red-light district.

Anyone who happened to pass along his way would have known that he was advancing ahead with a great sense of brisk haste. A haste probably matching the one with which he carried out his formal duties during patrol. This one haste, though, was still quite unfathomable for him to properly place a purpose on.

An unbidden, simple and yet so intricate, question lingered in his thoughts.

_Why?_

Why he was not satisfied? This girl he just rudely abandoned was rumored to be one of the best concubines of the red-light district. He of all people should have known. He had already taken more than a generous _sip_ of this _particular drink_; and not only once. And yet this night he was left _so unforgivably _un-sated. _Why?_

He had money. After all, he received a rather considerable amount from his job, which was more than enough to satiate his daily needs _and _capricious whims most of the times. He had fame. _O' he had. . ._ He had friends, a steady –but nonetheless very dangerous, but that was the way he liked it- job, a devoted and kind Commander, a demonic –but still immensely capable- Vice Commander, brave troops to command, women swooning before his very feet, drinks. . .

What was left that his psyche wanted to acquire but couldn't? He was no King, of course. He was far from it, really. But the life he led _now_ never made him miserable before; as far he was openly aware at least.

Then, why, _pray tell_, was he left un-satiated, thirsty, incomplete and so ridiculously indignant recently? The previous event stood as stentorian proof that he was losing his touch. Could that have been even possible?

Sano-san often claimed lately that those turbulent thoughts of his only occurred because he needed . . . a change of sorts. A change of scenery, of life, or job Souji could not yet know for sure.

But deep down he felt the smoldering need of it. The need to change, to abolish and relinquish the dullness of his present life and fly towards~

Towards where exactly?

After all, he was nothing but a blade, a sword for his Commander to wield. A simple member of the Royal Guard. _Simple_? Many would disagree. For he was none other than the Captain of the Royal Guard's First Division, Okita Souji.

* * *

**Author's note**

* * *

Ehm ... This is just the prologue, so it reveals next to nothing about the _real_ plot. I am very enthusiastic, though. I hope you can somewhat share this enthusiasm as well. Don't ask why I gave Chizuru such a role, please. Maybe your questions will be answered later on. Okay, I am kidding. Ask if you wish. Souji's role is somewhat clearer to understand. He is, after all, a member of The Guard.

I was always enthralled by the art of forging swords. And the whole setting -which is yet to be properly revealed in this Prologue by the way- feels so mysterious and adventurous to me. I was watching _Magi_ and the ending song of an anime called _Free!Iwatobi Swim Club_ and was very excited about an Oriental environment to place the characters into. And, just before surrendering to sleep one night, I decided to listen to my playlist. And the first random song that started playing was Army-Go, which always reminded me of Dessert/Arabian -Aladdin style- lands in a peculiar way. To be honest, the anime from where this song is taken reminds nothing of what I picture in my head, but that didn't stop me obviously.

_Please keep in mind that most of the -especially geographic and historical- parts of this story are parts of my own imagination. The traditions, towns, the way of dressing etc. Of course, they are _all _based on things I have seen or watched in anime and several other series, so they are not completely mine, per se. So, please bear with them, even ignore them if they trouble you, and enjoy the story._

If anyone is interested to help me by beta-reading the next chapters of this story, please do not hesitate to contact me. I cannot promise I'll have the continuation ready for publication very soon, though, because I have set myself into writing a considerable amount of chapters before starting updating like crazy. I wanted the prologue out to test its "power." *Sigh* The truth is that this prologue barely reveals anything, but _anyway._

**Please** leave a **review**. And pretty pretty please do not flame me. I am _not_ a very confident person, so I am not sure I'll be able to take it.


	2. Chapter 2

_Special Thanks to_** 5namida **_and _**Guest **_for their kind reviews!_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hakuoki.

* * *

**Fiery Green**

**~Chapter 2~**

* * *

Scorching sun. And sand. Blazing rays of merciless caustic light that threatened to suck out all bits of life and energy from every and any wanderer that dared travel these ruthless paths of land_, _slowly painting lean bodies darker, guiding opulent waterfalls of sweat to travel down strong necks, beautiful chests, abdomens and tortured backs.

It makes one wonder what kind of mythical beast Saito Hajime truly is to dare be clad into black garments under this impossible heat and sultriness. But all this was not something Okita Souji was not used to. He lived here, in Edo, for more years than he could count, after all.

"Kumicho!" the voice of his trusted subordinate woke him from his heat-induced short reverie.

The bellicose impish youth veered to tryst his men. He needed utter no words. Nor his men needed to further clarify. Wicked eyes shot to meet the other patrol Unit that slowly and decisively made its way towards the busy central street; a familiar dark shape slowly sliding into view.

_O', speaking of Hajime-kun and his wardrobe. _He felt his own body blazing under an even mightier wave of heat as he slowly and carefully regarded the dark attire of his brother-in-arms and trusted friend.

"Souji." His name was uttered familiarly and azure eyes snapped to meet his own emerald ones the moment the Captain of the Third Division finally matched his calculated steps with Souji's own.

"Ohayo, Hajime-kun." He titled his head at the side in a childish manner. "Anything new at your side of the city?"

Saito Hajime shook his head once. "No."

Souji lifted his hands to casually rest behind his head as he continued to march forwards. An evident sigh of his lack of enthusiasm. Why couldn't something fun pop up for once? A couple of thieves and pick-pockets were nothing new, nothing dramatic, nothing enjoyable._ Nothing at all._ At this rate he will probably soon grow tired of doing his rounds and ask Hijikata-san for a desk job.

. . _. Oh Kami, no_. On a second thought, doing rounds is fine. Better than a desk job. _By far_. At least, that way he has even a slight possibility to somewhat cloy his belligerent personality and satisfy his hunger for battle, for closely observing and listening to steel clashing against steel while scarlet rivers of blood brimmed from every corner.

He sighed softly and veered to closely eye the other executive. "Would it be rude of me to ask Hajime-kun to stand a few steps away?"

Saito abruptly turned to regard his friend. He inclined his head, eyes batting in puzzlement as a very honestly baffled expression came to settle at his beautiful features.

"Oops. That sounded way worse than intended. Apologies." Souji rubbed his head apologetically, and gave out a lopsided smile. The playful character of the gesture did not pass unnoticed by Hajime. "I meant to say...I feel hot just by looking at you, Hajime-kun. Drives me crazy seeing you in black under this freaking hell of a sun."

"O' ho! O' ho! My ears be damned!" a voice popped up at their left and bright blue eyes blinked in disbelief. An aghast Toudou Heisuke was standing only steps away. The twin pairs of bags he held at his sides were probably products of his just recent shopping spree, Okita thought.

"Souji! I didn't know ya were into _that kind _of stuff, man. I mean, I can somehow get, it since many gals say so, that Hajime-kun is a nice hunk of meat~ Oi!"

"Shut your trap, you blabber-mouthed idiot! You're making everything worse!" A large merciless hand of Nagakura_ property_ came to smack the younger executive straight in the back of the head, almost causing the bags he held onto to meet the dirt of the pavement. "What if anyone hears you, you moron_?_! If rumors start to spread that the Royal Guard of Edo is leaning _that way_-"

"Speaking of _morons_ that make everything _worse,_ Shinpachi." The imposing form of none other than the naturally awaited –since the Baka Trio were rarely spotted separately- Tenth Division Captain suddenly appeared behind Shinpachi. His next words came scarcely louder than a whisper. "Did you need to spell this nonsense out for everyone to hear clearly? _Idiot_!" he snorted and shook his head disapprovingly.

"Yare, yare," Souji breathed out, quite amused at their usual antics. Hajime sighed in silent surrender.

"It's all your damn fault, Heisuke! Now look! People are staring at us!"

Heisuke grunted. "That's because you look like a boulder with legs, Shinpachi-san!"

"What was that you~!"

"Cut it out!"

"But, Sano~"

"I said, cut it out! Behave! We are in the middle of the market."

"But I am not wearing my haori. No harm done while traveling incognito."

"Like people can't recognize you, you _oaf_!"

"Those idiots aside, Hajime-kun," Souji started, trying to inhibit a small smirk from spreading his lips. "Don't you think it's time to change your choice of clothes a little, hm? I know they kinda mean a lot to you and all, but you are probably sweating like a pig in there." He poked with a teasing finger at Saito's ribs.

Hajime slowly craned his head to the side and lowered his gaze to properly regard his black kimono. "It's true that I cannot refuse their impracticality,"

The green-eyed man nodded. "Exactly my point."

"But~"

"Yo, what do you say, Saito?" the large man momentarily stopped pummeling and pulling at Heisuke's long hair to face Hajime. "I, Nagakura Shinpachi-sama shall volunteer to escort you to buying a cloth deserving to be worn by men of the Royal Guard and you'll treat me in Shimabara tonight. How does that sound, hm?"

Saito responded with a mildly languid glance. "I shall think about it."

"Let me point out, before things get ugly," Harada started with a sigh and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "that he never said he would treat you in return, Saito. He only mentioned 'escort'."

He nodded. "I was aware." The impassive left-handed swordsman assured. "I never said I appreciated the offer."

Shinpachi grimaced quite uncongenial-ly."That was kinda rude, ya know. And here I was trying to help."

"Shinpachi-san," Souji raised a suspicious eyebrow and the taller swordsman turned to answer to Okita's claim of his attention. "You are in the way." he nonchalantly pointed out.

It took only a moment. Nagakura slowly turned only to meet a rather considerable number of civilians, who, quite obviously, silently wished to make their way though. But were frozen in place, in fear that the infamous Nagakura Shinpachi, Captain of the Second Division of the notorious Royal Guard of Edo, might be greatly and irreversibly angered at their –assumed- impudent behavior.

Souji inwardly snickered. Few knew that, deep down, Shinpachi-san was just a softie. But a softie enveloped in huge hunks of terrifying muscle, nonetheless.

Shinpachi gulped. "Sorry!"

* * *

O' how much she relished this incomparable feeling of unadulterated, candid bliss. She slowly allowed her wearied hands to gently emerge into the depths of the small basin, enjoying the rare luxury of such a moment.

Cascading, caressing, wet and cold, refreshing, liberating, a form of catharsis. . .

Water.

How she loved its great, mighty power. How it revived every fiber of her petty being. How rejuvenating. Alive. Harmonious. Beautiful as it flowed in its sacred path, reaching places she could not even begin to imagine.

For Chizuru this element also held a far deeper meaning. For water realized the final stage of her precious works. Through its magnificent magic, blazing steel would turn into a beautiful piece of steady, shimmering gray blade.

She loved water with all the power of her heart. She _adored_ it. It was truly such a shame than in this nation of Edo, water was a luxury of sorts, a precious item that should only be dealt and used with utter respect and restrain.

Sadly for Chizuru, the stupendous, opulent, so beautifully cerulean waters of the nearby oasis were exclusively reserved only for royalty. But that did not necessarily deterred her from daydreaming about it. It had been her honest wish to be emerged in this oasis ever since she dared take a brave glimpse, while heading to deliver an ordered item to the west part of the city. O' how greatly she longed and craved to dive into the promising azure depths of this naturally made pond.

_Free._ . .To discard every piece of clothing, toss it far far away from her body and plunge deep in its brilliant serenity, forget all worries and distress, enter the final stage of her shaping and forging; much like the glorious swords she so faithfully devoted herself into forming.

Soon subtle steps echoing from the room next to hers stirred the flow of her turbulent fantasy and pulled her back into the ruthless world of now. "Yukimura-kun?" a voice called. She recognized it.

"Sannan-san?" she called back to alert him of her presence. "You can enter. I am just using a little bit of the water." she informed and pulled her hands away from the small basin, wiping them at her garment sloppily. The small metal bracelets she wore on her arms and ankles jingled gently at the gesture. Her gray long flowing skirt that reached down to her ankles was by now stained with the blackness of coal and tarnished by multiple burns, no matter how greatly she tried to protect it.

She had long since decided that when working she should always make sure to cover her front with a long dark blue apron. Because the traditional attire the women of Edo used to wear indoors was nothing but a long skirt or flowing pants for the bottom and a breast band adorned and supported by ropes, or jewelry depending on your descend, for the upper body.

She had made sure upon purchase that her own -today white- breast band covered as much of her modesty as it was possible. But her flat small abdomen could not be left bare before the scorching blades. She couldn't use her mantle, which she often wore when visiting the market to protect the entirety of her body from the sun, like all women did, because it would be soon left in rugs. Thus, wearing her working apron had been a necessity, a indispensable part of apprenticeship.

Sighing softly, because she was ever unable to comply with the fact that peasant women were left so unforgivably bare for the men's eyes to feast upon, and thanking the heavens that she, at least, had a good enough and solid excuse to wear her long apron indoors in order to cover herself, she guided her eyes to still upon the room's entrance.

The door was soon held open and a smiling, brown haired man wearing glasses greeted her from the other side. He saluted and bowed his head in acknowledgment, as gentle and collected as ever.

"Is there something wrong, Sannan-san? Was I late?" she worriedly asked, panicking just a little that the kind man decided to come to the rear room and probably fetch her himself. "I am truly sorry-"

He raised pacifying hands. "Worry not. I simply came to check upon your health. You have worked diligently and without pause the last couple of days. I was quite worried about you, Yukimura-kun."

She offered a gentle smile. "Please, you need not worry about me. I enjoy working here."

"I know, child." Sannan offered gently. "Just don't overwork yourself," he warned affectionately. Chizuru nodded affirmatively. "And you were not late, so please enjoy your well-deserved break."

"Y-Yes. I will. Thank you!" she breathed out and bowed, raising her head again to beam a very kind radiant smile; one only she could provide.

Before she knew, the man was out of the room and heading towards the front counter. Chizuru heaved out a long breath and closed her eyes for a moment.

Sannan Keisuke was none other than the honorable owner of this small blacksmith store, in which Chizuru had devoted the entirety of her life and care. And how she came to live here, at Sannan Keisuke's humble abode and shop was a small tale of its own. And it began years ago, when she was only just a toddler and continued in the form of a series of very fateful events.

Because, all her life . . . she had next to nothing.

Yukimura Chizuru's only known family was her father, Yukimura Kodou. Who, unfortunately, she had met only a handful of times. She knew he was a famous doctor, said to travel through the vast faraway countries of North, South, East and West alike and spreading his famous medicinal practices around the entirety of the known lands.

Soon in Chizuru's life it was made painfully clear that she could not accompany her Father in his harsh journeys. As a matter of fact, she was never given a choice whatsoever. Being only a small child she had no other egress but to remain in her homeland and, upon reaching an adequate age, make a living alone, earning every bit of the money she used to sustain herself. It was rather obvious that she had to grow up and work in the slums, since her Father was nowhere near to provide her with home or companionship and family warmth.

People that knew her often claimed that she, probably because of the impossible impact of some strange genes, had always been rather apt in conducting medicine. And the girl often contemplated about the possibility of working as a Nurse. But, somehow, deep within, she housed the very honest intention and aspiration to differ from her –otherwise great, she was sure, but practically a stranger- Father and make a name for herself. In a field that was entirely of her own choosing and not just a part given to her by a heritage, she never even had a chance to know or embrace.

Yes, her Father is said to be famous in many lands. But she had always been _nobody._ Just a kid raised in the slums, receiving just a petty amount of money from her traveling parent once in a blue moon.

Proud as she was, Chizuru vehemently had refused to keep on living of borrowed money from a man she hardly even knew, albeit said man was undoubtedly her Father. And thus, she timidly decided from there on to act as the helping hand of a person at most closeness to her and her Father, Sannan Keisuke, whose admiration towards the art of wielding and forging blades could even match her own.

It was impossible to forget the first time a blade was left bare in all its naked glistening glory before her big childish eyes. How gracefully it was unsheathed from its scabbard in order to freely roam the ruthless desert that enveloped this land for centuries. How beautifully the much painful sunlight blinked to her from the blade's surface and for a moment stole her sight away in its unmatched brightness.

How even more breathtaking was to witness the night's ivory orb glinting off the metal a night long ago; a night cold and yet so marvelously gorgeous painted by colors that stood as palpable proof of the Moon's constant stunning night struggle to battle the Sun's divine beauty during daytime.

From that day onwards, she had been determined to follow the way of the sword. Secretly, since she had never dared breathe out to anyone her honest unadulterated passion for a simple crude "killing tool", as many women –and men alike- from the slums would have insisted. Most likely her own father too.

But, alas, Yukimura Chizuru, unfortunately or not, was born a woman. And a very feeble one._ She knew. _She knew that she had no chance of harnessing her true potential –if such thing even existed in the first place- by mastering the blade in the _conventional_ way.

The series of impact-ful events that left their glistening marks on her mind and body continued. It was also fate that a day, only weeks after she only vaguely decided to ask Sannan-san to commence her apprenticeship, a day seemingly like any other, a book was found lying under her feet, thrown away across the pavement. How vivid and lucid the memory played on and on in her mind as her poor old self picked it up and immeasurable enthusiasm overwhelmed her being, an impossible thirst to read it.

_It was clearly fate_, for the words of this book ringed pungently, endlessly into her mind day in and day out. By reading just those lines she clearly understood exactly the reason this book was mercilessly thrown away, because it referred to a topic rather sensitive in this society; women.

_Females are not meant as aggressive beings. They are creation themselves. They ought to devote their might and strength into giving physical or mental birth, developing, nourishing, caring, shaping, forging, sustaining life; not take it away._

And so she burned those, beautiful in her humble opinion, words of a nameless lost author into her innocent mind and soon had _adamantly_ decided.

The only heirloom she retained from the Yukimura family -the silent reminder that she indeed had a parent and a family from which she came to be born to- the kodachi adorning her room's wall, shall not serve as a killing tool, but as stentorian inspiration instead. For she shall grasp her female nature and not deny it. She won't seek attack, revenge, sharp bellicose feelings of battle. Instead she will create, love, nurture, shape.

And only days after she concluded at this, Chizuru finally presented herself before her neighbor and acquaintance, Sannan Keisuke, a devoted sword-technician, for no other reason than to forge, to create. To become one with the blade, with the sharpness of it. Not battle its power, but cherish it and shape it gently, as a caring mother does to her children.

She openly claimed that the audacity of asking to become a blacksmith apprentice, albeit a woman, was the irrevocable result of her need to sustain herself and make a living using her own hands and sweat, while her Father traveled the word to cure the sick and invalid. _Only she_ knew than this was, in truth, a manifestation of her so so so deep and honest need to follow the Way of the Sword in her own unique devoted way; a path she decided to define and clear by herself, by forging her so loved blades.

Half an hour later, she was ready to resume her work and headed towards her most beloved workplace, at the back of the Sannan Blacksmith Store. She pulled her brown hair into a messy bun and promptly started giving shape to yet another gracious weapon.

Upon hearing another customer praising her services to the shop owner, she could not stem her honest smile. Because few to none actually knew that the talented young blacksmith apprentice was a young girl steadily preparing to enter adulthood only few weeks later.

* * *

An uncharacteristic emphatic silence ruled the crowded room for many long seconds, as minds once again silently wondered what the repercussions would be should they follow the plan the largest man of the group had in mind.

And it was said man himself that finally decided to put a stop to the reign of this silence. "Are we ready, then?" he dared wonder out loud. Many pairs of eyes came to rest upon his own charming cerulean hues.

Heisuke grunted and craned his neck. "Shouldn't you be asking yourself that, Shinpachi-san?"

Nagakura arched a pair of thick brows. "Hm?"

Toudou Heisuke pointed an accusing finger at his friend."The vest you are wearing." he started clarifying. "It's good for the heat and all, but I bet ya gonna get sunburns walking like that _this time of the day_, without a freaking mantle! _Old men_ like you should know better than that! And I won't put not even a brush of cream on ya! I swear it, by the name of Hijikata-san's fury!"

Shinpachi batted his eyes twice and scowled in a very silly manner. "You know, I was gonna say that you are an ass and an idiot, and _freakishly_ caring at the same time, but the power of Hijikata-san's fury is too much for me to handle."

"What about my power?" a strict bass voice drummed and echoed inside the Headquarters, as the man entered the room. Souji hardly contained a wicked chuckle from escaping him as he crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at the new arrival.

Shinpachi gulped comically. "Hi- Hijikata-san. . ."

Hijikata Toshizo offered nothing but a sharp grunt and closed his eyes for a span of a millisecond in disapproval. "I'd appreciate it if you don't badmouth me, Nagakura."

"I didn't." Shinpachi gritted his teeth and curled his suddenly sweaty hands into tense fists, arms hanging limb at each of his side."So-sorry." He offered in a quick breath and lowered his head as he pointed accusingly. "It's Heisuke's fault by the way!"

The younger man's eyes widened in disbelief before this blatant betrayal. "Oiii! Was not!"

"It was. Don't deny it."

"It was _not_!"

"Heisuke, men don't make excuses."

"Shouldn't _you _follow _your own_ advice then?"

A pair of identical fists landed on each head. Sano gave an awkward smile at their Vice-Commander. "Please excuse them, Fukucho." He inclined his head apologetically and forced the other two to follow, bowing nervously before the impending rage of the Vice Commander.

Hijikata nodded once and heaved out a sharp breath. "I am at least glad the noise is taken care of. Good job, Harada."

"Always a pleasure." Sano chuckled and smiled wickedly.

Souji exchanged a silent meaningful glance with Hajime and snorted playfully. "Pay close attention, Hajime-kun. _It's_ on its way." he snickered.

Hijikata eyed and measured them carefully for seemingly forever before asking wryly. "Where are you headed? Not to mention _without permission_." He crossed his arms over his chest to make a point.

"Gen-san is patrolling at the moment. We are good to go, Hijikata-san," Shinpachi tried to defend, to no avail apparently. A black fine eyebrow twitched upon hearing those words.

"You have yet to answer my question. _Where _are you headed?" The Vice Commander pressed with acrid intensity.

"Fukucho," Saito calmly called, effectively claiming the ebony-haired man's attention. "I am afraid this is partially my fault. Shinpachi and the rest offered to accompany me to the Market."

Hijikata arched his eyebrows questioningly.

"Oh, that's great, Saito-kun! You should leave if you have already made plans in advance." The unmistakable voice of the Chief joined this strange ensemble, as the man entered the room proudly, carrying himself with a pleasant air that, deliberately or not, commanded honest, pure respect and admiration from the Captains.

"See, Hijikata-san," Souji nodded once and smirked pseudo-innocently at his Vice-Commander. "Kondou-san is a very understanding person. On sharp contrast with _some."_

"You shut it!' Hijikata Toshizo fixed the younger executive with a glacial austere glare. "Then, Saito, what is it that needs to be purchased so suddenly?"

"Clothes, Hijikata-san!" Heisuke took the liberty to answer and jolted like an excited toddler. "I bet it must be living hell for Hajime-kun to do his rounds in black. He will lose his mind soon enough."

Toshizo blinked in surprise, his annoyance from before slowly subsiding. "That's, actually, not a bad idea."

As soon as those words were paid, Saito's eyes involuntarily glimmered. And Souji couldn't help but inwardly cackle. It was no secret that Saito Hajime held a deep-rooted unconditional admiration for the Oni Fukucho. In a certain way, he was, quite frankly, an insufferable fanboy. _No_, Souji did not blame the man. On the contrary, he could relate and sympathize. After all, he was a fanboy of his own. Devoted admirer of the person entrusted with the leadership of the Royal Guard of the Nation of Edo, Kondou Isami. That, he could never deny.

"Oh, I see. Good thinking! You should promptly depart, then! And, Toshi, you need not be so strict. They deserve a break."

Hijikata whipped his head to the left in order to regard the other man."What does that mean, Kondou-san?"

The Commander allowed his lips to curve into a puzzled kind smile, that was very characteristic of him. "Hm?"

Hijikata sighed in mild indignation. "Does it mean that you'd allow them to party in Shimabara later again?" Hijikata pressed meaningfully, a, only at first subtle, wave of irritation slowly seemed to surge from the sharp eyes of the Vice Commander. _Once again._

Kondou blinked innocently and scratched his chin. "I don't see any wrong with this, Toshi. It's not like our laws consider it a crime."

Toshizo snorted mockingly. "There are _plenty of things_ wrong with all this, Kondou-san! Going shopping for Saito's hygiene is one thing, but visiting Shimabara during such busy days is completely different!"

"They aren't that busy, though."

"I wasn't talking to _you,_ Souji!" he snapped. "As a matter of fact, weren't you in Shimabara yesterday evening?"

Souji shrugged. "I was. So?" He could now clearly see the veins on his Fukucho's forehead pulsate in barely suppressed anger. Yes, he usually had that effect on his Vice Commander. No surprise there. "And to be fair, Hijikata-san, _no one_ said we are going to Shimabara later."

"Oi! We aren't?" Shinpachi exclaimed and blinked in a facetious display of confusion, making Sano sigh, struggling to inhibit his laughter.

"Oh please. I know your lot like the back of my hand," Hijikata snorted and shook his head once, ebony hair danced at the rhythm of his moving head.

"Hmm?" Souji smiled devilishly again. "I surely hope you know us better than the true meaning of 'Together watching the morning snow, while still wearing a nightgown.' As a matter of fact, Hijikata-san, where on earth did you find snow in this hell of a dessert country, I wonder."

Purple orbs widened in pure uncontainable terror. A kind of terror that momentarily paralyzed the man from head to toes. A kind of terror that was soon converted in -equally pure- ire. "You brat! Where, the hell did you hear that, ha?"

"Nani? Was I not supposed to know that? If you ask me-"

"Nobody asked! Silence!"

"Ma, ma, Toshi. No need to get so irritated."

"Kondou-san! Stop standing up for him-"

In the midst of this assault of male voices, Sano shook his head once and heaved a sigh. "Man, what a way to sidetrack the conversation."

"Hm, why do you complain, Sano-san? Now our Oni Fukucho is too busy to-"

"Like hell I am! No Shimabara for you for the next _month_."

"Eh? That's rather harsh," Souji complained and wore a cute little pout, that Hijikata knew better than to surrender under. So, he met this pout with a frigid glare.

"Whoa!" Heisuke clamped his mouth with his hands in shock. "That's too freaking much! Souji, I feel for ya."

"Don't you worry, Heisuke," He waved his hand casually. "I am sure Hijikata-san will be kind enough to provide me with women to entertain me_ in my quarters,_ while I obediently follow the rules of my sentence. I will be sure to lend some gals to Hijikata-san to thank him, if he so wishes. Except if, instead, he is into-"

Demonic senses were awakened as purple hues shone brilliant stormy red; twin fires of rage. "I dare you! One. More. Word. And I _castrate_ you!"

"Toshi! Don't~!"

* * *

**Author's Note**

* * *

_In case it wasn't obvious enough in Chizuru's scene, I really like to "play" with elements. Water and Fire up until this point. I'd like to think that both are playing an integral part in this story._

_This chapter just _had to_ be written first for me to place Chizuru's background properly in there and initiate you a little bit in Souji's daily life. I also have to admit. Every time I write about Shinpachi I like him even more. So, nothing much, just a further introduction to this strange world. Chizuru is kinda obsessed about her clothes. She hates them with a passion. Maybe I should name this chapter 'Clothing Mania' since we were introduced to Hajime-kun's wardrobe as well. ^.^' Those points are important for later on, though, so don't hate me for that.  
_

_-____This is an AU story. So, t_opography, names and many more aspects of the Hakuoki world are a little bit -but I assure you I have good intentions- abused for entertainment only. ^.^'

_Thanks for reading. Please be kind enough to leave me a **review**! I'd appreciate it more than you could ever imagine.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

_Special, brimming with love, Thanks to_** 5namida **_and_** OniKuShita **_for their precious reviews and support!_

_Rated strong _**T**_ because of Shinpachi's language and because the men of Shinsengumi are first and foremost _men_. You shall see what I mean by that._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hakuoki.

* * *

**Fiery Green**

**~Chapter 3~**

* * *

It was simply routine. Nothing she did not expect. A wont. Nothing she was not accustomed to. Her arms and feet were by now used to this comfortable motif of stability so much, that it often felt as though Chizuru's limbs were operating steadily on their own accord. And they had hardly ever failed her.

She took a very carefully calculating look at the instructions that were scribbled on the paper she was given, per request of the client.

"Just remember to clean it regularly using the maintenance kit I provided you with. Blood and intestines should not be left rotting on the blade for too long. If so, your blade with soon dull and be rendered useless."

"Couldn't you just sharpen it again?" the new costumer asked in puzzlement.

"It is possible usually. But I must inform you that sharpening is conducted-"

She stopped paying attention to the exchange and soon focused on the matter at hand. The client, which the order she was currently taking care of belonged to, had specifically asked for a very delicate and intricate pattern to be drawn and sculpted upon the crimson scabbard. It required the utmost of her power and her closest attention to imprint the design on the object successfully.

Since Chizuru was very much occupied with handling this particular order, Sannan-san, as the proud owner, shouldered the burden of dealing with new costumers by himself.

In all honesty, though, Chizuru would _always_ avoid interacting with people coming to make their purchases and place orders after choosing from their merchandise, if she could help it. She preferred working at the back, shrouded in the shadows of mystery, allowing only the distant sounds of a newborn sword's metal clashing with her hammer reach the ears of the potential buyers.

Admittedly, she had always found herself surprisingly reluctant to deal with being the cashier and writing down orders. Exacting the orders or even delivering them was fine. But explaining to rude costumers was not her cup of tea. The most important reason, though, was something else entirely.

She was, after all, a girl. And this fact was to be kept hidden from as many people as possible to avoid unnecessary and completely uninvited trouble. For this _small detail_ to remain concealed, though, it demanded utter discretion. It was not a secret, per se, since she was quite known throughout the slums. But there was no need for the _entire nation_ to acquire the most precious information that Sannan Keisuke's apprentice was, actually, a lass.

For, who would entrust the forging of their blade into the hands of a weak, childish-looking young girl with no sufficient background to support her in her supposed field of expertise? Most likely few to none.

"Good day, Sannan-san." A very familiar voice reached Chizuru's ears after the distinct ringing sound of the small bell that was placed on the entrance in order to alert them of the arrival of any costumer, and stopped her intricate dragon drawing midway.

"Suzuka-kun! Glad to have you paying us a visit today. You are here for the _usual,_ I presume?" the young female blacksmith heard the man reply.

The person laughed sweetly. "I am here for Chizuru-chan. Is she available?"

"She is currently taking care of an order in the rear room. Do visit her workplace if you wish."

"Thank you. I promise I won't distract her from work for _too_ long." The incriminating tone of her words did not pass unnoticed by Chizuru.

And then subtle womanly footsteps neared closer and closer, signaling for the young apprentice to momentarily abandon her work in order to greet the new arrival. The curtain of the back room's entrance was soon pulled sideways to reveal the –already familiar and expected- identity of the visitor.

"Chizuru-chan!" the other girl exclaimed upon spotting her best friend.

"Sen-chan!" Chizuru acknowledged and allowed the other brunette to embrace her gently, careful enough not to dirty her with the paint on her hands.

The radiant smile adoring the very beautiful face of Senhime, as was her full name, was soon lost upon meeting the features of the Yukimura girl, who seemed, in a way, burdened and heavy with weariness. "You look rather pale, Chizuru-chan." she noted and caressed the girl's cheek affectionately. "I certainly hope you remember not to overwork yourself." She arched one fine eyebrow and placed a hand at her waist.

Chizuru broke into a partially-guilty smile and huffed a stray lock of her hair away from her eyes. She wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand and stilled her eyes upon her friend's.

In Sen's presence she always felt comfortable, at ease. It was no wonder that Suzuka Senhime was the best –and many would claim _only_- friend of hers. Sen, sadly for both, was born of Nobility and spent the most of her days living in the Palace, attending one formal party and convention after the other. But, frankly, Sen was a young woman of very rebellious nature.

And because of that very trait, she found herself frequently wandering the slums in search of . . .seemingly nothing and yet so many things at the same time. And these were the –vague- circumstances under which Yukimura Chizuru met Suzuka Senhime another fateful day a few years ago. That was the moment one young soul met the other. And a journey towards their most precious and cherished friendship began to unfold before their very eyes; and uncontrollably so.

Sen, who had already started feeling inexplicably tired out of Nobility and their smiles of deceit and ridiculous cajolery, found in Chizuru the simple honest sweet friend she could never have found in the Palace Halls. And, on the other side of the spectrum, Chizuru found a girl smart, strong-willed and decisive in which she could depend on, a female acquaintance to help her stand on her own two feet and fight, advancing ever forwards.

Sannan-san was by now used to Sen's frequent expenditures in their humble shop and commented nothing of it. And Sen, discreet as she had to, always made sure she wore clothes modest and plain enough as to not arouse unnecessary suspicions from the people of the streets, should they happen to set their eyes on her while she was visiting.

Her purple golden laced breast-band and bright yellow skirt, that in a way matched Chizuru's style, were concealed from sight behind the white traveling mantle the girl wore.

But, bothered by the heat of the ironworks, Sen pulled the garment slightly away to allow her neck to breathe.

She opened her mouth to, no doubt speak of her news of the week, when suddenly wide pink eyes shimmered in awe upon taking a glimpse of Chizuru's work. "This scabbard is so beautiful, Chizuru-chan! Your inspiration?" she exclaimed but dared not touch. By looking at Chizuru's stained hands Sen understood that this scabbard was not yet ready for actual testing.

Chizuru shook her head. "Hardly. It's part of the order."

Sen pouted cutely. "I should have known." She paused to giggle to an inner thought of hers, that she soon made sure to disclose to Chizuru. "You prefer working with blades rather than scabbards. To even think that Chizuru-chan would intentionally spend so much time drawing rather than forging is slightly preposterous," she cackled.

And Chizuru could not help but do so as well. "Sen-chan has me entirely figured out." She moved to rub the side of her head comically, but stopped midway upon realizing her palms were still covered in red and black paint.

Sen winked and beamed a smile. "But, of course. You _are _my best friend."

Chizuru titled her head to the side happily and brought her stained hands together over her lap. "Thank you, Sen-chan."

Pink eyes blinked repeatedly in bewilderment. "For what exactly?"

Chizuru felt her cheeks warming up as a blush cutely tinted her face. She fidgeted slightly before muttering in one quick breath reticently. "For being my friend." And lowered her gaze in embarrassment.

"What are you even talking about, Chizuru-chan?! You shouldn't thank someone for being your friend." She pinched the girl's cheek playfully, like a scolding mother. "The fact that they are means that you provide them with something precious in return." she sighed. "Please, have more confidence in yourself."

Chizuru only nodded weakly and turned to inspect the work done at the scabbard lying on her counter.

She heard Sen snort as she frowned playfully."Are you that eager to get rid of me?" she joked and nudged Chizuru playfully at her side.

The slightly shorter brunette's eyes swiveled to meet the other girl's. "No...Not at all. Why do you think so?"

Sen's lips were drawn into a half-smile. "Am I that annoying to be around? Because when I started bringing up subjects you don't like, you immediately turned and focused on your work." she remarked, half-teasing. "You do that a lot." she concluded. Chizuru blinked in confusion at those words. "I mean, when you feel nervous, you turn to your precious blades. As if they are your only way to console yourself. I get this feeling from you." The Noblewoman pointed out and shrugged playfully, the ornaments on her arms, wrists and ankles chiming melodically.

The young apprentice felt her body slightly stiffen and twitch. In a very peculiar manner it felt as though she was just caught red-handed doing something uncalled for or very peculiar and inappropriate. In all truthfulness, she never stopped to consider that her reactions could be interpreted in such a way before.

"Really?" she wondered out loud.

Sen brought and pressed a hand on her lips to inhibit a taunting snicker. "Could it be that you have not noticed?"

_No, I haven't._

"Anyway, I didn't travel to the east parts of the town only to point your cute little quirks out."

_Quirks? Why did she have to word it like that?_

Sen drew in a brave breath and pulled her two palms together in barely contained enthusiasm. "Ne, ne, the Annual Moon Festival is to be held soon…" she trailed off, unable to conceal her excitement any longer.

"I am sure it will be a beautiful sight to behold as always," Chizuru noted and proceeded to use the dump cloth she kept at her left to clean her hands from the paint she used previously. Sen's eyes followed her closely.

She truly enjoyed attending the Annual Moon Festival. In a country plagued and ruled by the sovereign Sun, the Full Moon of August provided an excellent chance to admire, revere and commemorate the beauty of the ivory orb that embellished the night sky ever since years very long long past. Men and women, nobles and peasants, children and elders were called forth to attend the unique festivities of the summer; dancing, drinking, merry-making, rejoicing. It was a day of the year all subjects of Edo looked forward to. It was a day when rich danced with poor and the King himself, along with the Royal Family stood over, supervising from his high podium, relishing this abundance of colors, life, joy, mirth, love.

"Surely, yes," she finally answered. "But that was not what I was going to say." Her friend's distinct voice woke Chizuru up from her self-induced small reverie. She blinked innocently.

"Has the first stage of preparations finished yet?" Chizuru asked earnestly, while still trying to get rid of the black paint that had seemingly plastered itself on her small nails.

The other girl lifted her hand to rest under her delicate chin, contemplating. "I would say almost."

Sen, being raised and living at the palace, was nearly always kept well informed of the progress of the festivities, the preparations, the people in charge of organizing them and of the rumors that accompanied each event before _and after_. Chizuru also knew that she had even been the supervisor of a couple of banquets once or twice. Thus, Sen was to be trusted in matters concerning fairs, celebrations and commemorations.

The Noblewoman shook her head in mild annoyance. "Mo, you diverted my attention. That was not what I was going to say either." She tapped her foot against the floor once and cutely brought her lips together to form a pout.

"Say, Chizuru-chan," she started somewhat apprehensively, eyes glistening with something Chizuru was unable to place. Even though, she could not exactly name the feeling Sen gave off, Chizuru found herself enveloped in a completely unbidden blanket of unease because of it.

Brown clashed with dark pink, as their eyes silently met each other, locked into a steel almost stern grip, that Chizuru knew only Sen was able to impose in such a ridiculously innocent manner. It left her with a lingering taste of slight discomfort.

The next words were blurted out so hurriedly, it was almost impossible to keep track of their meaning and arrange them correctly. "Shall we participate in the Mangetsu Cotillion?"

Milk chocolate hues stilled abruptly. She soon found herself batting her eyes in consternation, disbelief, mind swirling with thoughts in disarray.

_I am sorry, what?_

She must have misunderstood. The Mangetsu Cotillion, meaning the Full Moon Dance was the highlight of the evening of the last day of the Moon Festival. Beautiful young women dressed in white danced under the _Mangetsu,_ torches surrounded the magnificent ensemble so mystically, fascinatingly. It was a perfect chance for the young ladies to put their beauty on display for everyone to see and showcase their dancing abilities by participating in a synchronized traditional dance that was greatly loved by all.

She loved watching those beautiful women dance under the Moon, people cheering them on as they flowed and fluttered around gently like fairies.

At that moment, she was unable to combine the words 'Mangetsu Cotillion', 'we' and 'participate' together. It simply made no sense whatsoever.

"What . . . what do you mean?"

Sen chuckled. "What _could_ I mean, Chizuru-chan? Dance. Like the girls we used to watch all these years."

Chizuru's small mouth opened in shock. Then closed again. She needed a single moment to compose herself. Pleading eyes squinted, as she regarded her friend and leveled her with a stare. "Please, tell me you are simply teasing me."

Sen shook her head. "No. I am perfectly serious." Naturally, she had already noticed the pronounced change in Chizuru's behavior, caused by a sudden massive current of anxiety and discomfort, but shown no sign of it. Instead she persistently smiled in encouragement and urged her further. "I can assure you, we'll have lots of fun. All those years we used to watch from afar. But now that we are both eighteen and it is finally high time we start~"

"I am _not _yet," she tried to defend.

"You _will_ be when the Festival starts, Chizuru-chan!" Sen insisted in an admonishing manner. "But that's hardly the point. Why don't we have some fun, in a different way this once? It's at the end of the month, so you still have time to consider."

_No, I shall consider nothing._

"But, I have work to do," she blurted out her mightiest excuse, still unable to fully process the conditions -or repercussions- of this offer.

Sen waved dismissively. "I am sure Sannan-san is kind enough to allow you a break for a single evening. It will be fun I-."

"But, I don't dance."

Sen drew her lips into a peculiar grimace and furrowed her brows. "You are all buts. I don't either."

Chizuru rolled her eyes quite indignantly. "But _you _descend from Nobility."

"There we go with the buts again." Sen let out a sigh. "So? What is your point?"

"You live in the _Palace._ You are accustomed to this. . ." she paused, in a desperate search of a good enough reasoning. ". . .whole thing. . . ?"

"No. I am not," she assured. "We have spent almost every Moon Festival together. You should have known better than to say that. Please, stop worrying, Chizuru-chan." She finally neared and gently took Chizuru's hands, enveloping them in her own soft ones. "You are a beautiful young woman. It is such a pity you have to be constantly hidden in obscurity. You should show this beauty of yours for the world to see more often."

The young apprentice swallowed._ Why did this all feel like a devious ploy Sen designed?_

Chizuru heaved a deep sigh. "Sen-chan, you very well know the reason for that. It's so easy for you to speak of beauty. You are so beautiful. _You_, not me." She released an almost forgotten breath as the words almost tremblingly slipped past her pink lips.

Sen suddenly placed a gentle finger under Chizuru's chin and purposefully forced her friend to raise her head to regard her, look her straight in the eyes.

"Chizuru-chan, I know you all too well. I know that you despise everything that may happen to accentuate your identity as a woman. I am not saying that this is completely intended from your part, but it's, without a doubt, a fact. And I would never do something to place your life or your work here, that you love so much, in danger. You do know that, don't you?"

And Chizuru couldn't help but nod. Because, no matter what, she trusted Sen with her life. And she was honestly well aware that Sen only catered to Chizuru's happiness. She would never harm her intentionally. For that was the very nature of the deep bond they shared. She knew, because Chizuru felt exactly the same way for Sen in return.

"All we are going to do is dance," Sen insisted vehemently. "For _us_; no one else. You can even wear your working apron outdoors if you wish," she lightly scowled and gestured to the fabric currently covering her friend. "If that makes you come out of this little nest of yours, it's probably worth it,"she urged more.

Chizuru wanted to, at least, give it a thought. She really did. Mostly for Sen's sake. But she couldn't. The dread now storming her mind in tremendous merciless waves completely deterred her from doing so.

"Wh- what about my clients? I-"

"You surely deserve a break for once." came the instant reply. "Besides we always used to attend the festivities. You'll just have to ask for _a little_ more time than usual. Nothing to be afraid of, really."

Many silent moments elapsed.

"I really can't, Sen-chan," Chizuru insisted once again.

Sen heaved a weary sigh and puffed her cheeks. "Alright. We shall make a deal," she finally proposed.

"Make a deal?" Chizuru quoted in confusion.

"Yes. A deal. I promise not to bother you with this any longer. But you _have to _promise to consider my offer. Pinky promise?" she stretched her little finger towards the other girl.

Chizuru was hesitant at first, but then found herself tangling her own little finger with Sen's, signing the silent agreement.

She sighed. "I promise I shall think about it." she finally mumbled, eliciting an honest smile from the Noblewoman. "But, please understand, Sen-chan." she added a breath after. "I cannot just say I'll dance. It's too complicated."

Sen shook her head lovingly. "People and their pitiful excuses make things complicated, Chizuru-chan. Nothing is complicated by itself," she countered but soon added. "Worry not. I understand."

Chizuru's stiff shoulders sagged in relief, as she bowed graciously. "Thank you."

The other girl waved a dismissive hand. "You needn't thank me, Chizuru-chan. Not for that part, at least. Give the answer I seek and then thank me all you want." She winked playfully. "I was meaning to ask you, by the way. There is another thing you need to do for me to stop bothering you." she continued and glanced sideways towards the counter behind Chizuru, currently occupied by numerous tools. "Are you planning to finish this beautiful scabbard today?"

Chizuru shrugged. "I was." Sen's probing –_and prompting-_ stare, encouraged her to continue. "But the order is meant to be ready in five days."

"The blade?"

"It has been already prepared."

"Excellent!" Sen shook her head in mirth. "Then I do have another offer to propose," she started, a wicked grin slowly stretching her rosy lips. "Dango?" she needed only say, as cinnamon eyes widened in excitement and Chizuru broke into a wide honest smile.

How could one ever refuse those delicious sweets, made by the Gods themselves?

_Oh, yes, please!_

But there was still one crucial detail to take care of before their sally. "I'll have to get Sannan-san's permission first," she blurted out in one quick breath.

Sen rubbed her hands in delight, quite confident about the man's answer already. "Go, then!"

* * *

"You need your hair trimmed." Sano pointed out, eyeing carefully the shorter Captain that was padding at his right. Since the difference in height was more than obvious, the taller man could easily _enjoy _a full view of Heisuke's head.

Toudou snapped to glare at his friend. "Tch. Forget it," he growled and made a very obvious point by emphatically flipping his long ponytail just in front of Sano's face in a very peeving manner. "You are just jealous that my mane is loved by the ladies, Sano-san."

"Yes, I bet by the lice too."

Heisuke needed a moment in order to properly register the depth of the insult."Oi!"

Seeing Heisuke's incredulous and betrayed scowl Souji hardly contained himself from bursting out in sudden laughter; his shoulders were slightly shaking because of the effort. He was closely watching the Baka Trio with great amusement.

"Though I hate to admit it, Sano is right. You don't have to shorten it much. Just trim it a little. After all, I need to pull on something when we brawl!" Shinpachi said as he ruffled Heisuke's hair playfully.

"That's quite a legitimate reason for Shinpachi-san," Souji teased, smiling meaningfully at Hajime, who was currently walking right next to the auburn-haired warrior.

"I am not gonna cut my hair, geez!" the younger executive insisted, slapping Shinpachi's hand away.

"As you wish. Just don't stand too close to me."

"Sano-san, that's too mean."

The bickering and bantering continued burning strong as the famous Captains strolled down the street.

If they had paused a moment to contemplate, they would probably all conclude that they were unwillingly –or maybe purposely- stalling. None was over-enthusiastic about returning to Headquarters. Moments where all five of them could spend slowly pacing down the buzzing streets, without having a duty to attend to, were undoubtedly rare. Especially lately. Unconsciously they wanted to relish and savor the moment. No man would dare to openly admit it, though.

Hajime preciously held onto the bag in his hands that contained his newly chosen attire, colored an uncannily pale white and dark blue, courtesy of his friends' magnanimity. Upon departing, he was quite sure he was supposed to take care of the expenses himself. He never even remotely entertained the idea that circumstances would guide him into a different path and almost literally _bulldoze _him into a quite uncomfortable, at first especially, exchange.

He was prepared, he used to presume. Until he was coerced to think otherwise. Because he was most certainly _not_ prepared when his friends excitedly claimed that they could cover the expense of the new attire. He vehemently refused at first. But the ferocious combined power of four Captains of the Royal Guard was too much for even Saito Hajime to handle by himself simultaneously.

"Oi, Souji, Saito. Which do you prefer?" Harada's voice abruptly boomed at their side.

Souji and Hajime had long since abandoned any hope of following the crazy conversation that went on as the Baka Trio argued and bantered back and forth. Thus, at first, they knew not what to make out of the sudden question.

"We aren't allowed to visit Shimabara, anyway. Why don't we just go to Ikedaya? It's only two blocks away. And they have great meat," Heisuke insisted, initiating the two in the conversation.

"It is rumored to be too rowdy there, isn't it?" remarked Hajime, immediately mentally pinpointing the place which Heisuke was referring to.

"I say we go to Gion. The sake is great. The girls are great. The food is great. The girls are great. . . Did I mention that the girls there are great?"

"We get it, Shinpachi," Sano sneered and rolled his eyes.

"Ha? What's with the attitude, Sano?" But the man abruptly gasped and his eyes came to be inexplicably clouded by a sudden realization, only he knew the details of. "Could it be- What you were talking the other day. . . I thought about it but decided not to ask. Damn! Have you taken _all the_ galls there? Not even one left to spend the freaking night? You took them all? That's why you ain't interested? You _man-whore_!"

Sano gaped comically at his friend."What are you even talking about? I don't understand a freaking thing. Stop blurting out nonsense, you idiot!"

"If Ikedaya is rowdy, then Gion is a total nightmare. Why don't you just listen to me for once, hm?" Heisuke continued to insist.

Souji slowly exhaled. He was ready to dart a very well-calculated sarcastic remark when suddenly green eyes whipped away and came to rest on a very particular shop at his left. Suddenly he had a craving for sweets.

"Dango!" he exclaimed with enthusiasm rivaling the one of a child opening his presents.

Hajime promptly followed Souji's gaze, only for his eyes to tryst the same dango shop Souji was currently eyeing with unbidden excitement.

"Dango?" Shinpachi parroted in disbelief and gawked stupidly.

"Oi, oi, what happened to the womanizer Souji we all know? You prefer _dango_ over sake and sex now, Okita?" Sano joked and nudged the green-eyed man at the ribs.

"That's actually awesome, Souji! It's been so freaking long since we had dango!"

"I don't mind tasting dango for a change."

Shinpachi hardly resisted the urge to cry out in despair. "You too, Saito?" He turned to Harada next. "Oi, Sano. You'll come with me to Gion, yes? I don't mind if you have already bedded every woman there. Do it for me."

But he smacked him on the head instead. "How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to spread dirt and spoil my name, you asshole!" After the small explosion, Sano cleared his throat and straightened his clothes. "Actually, I'd like dango too."

"What? Do you even have anything _worth the trouble_ between your legs, you second-class men?" Shinpachi's hollers fell into deaf ears as the rest of the Captains padded towards the shop in brisk haste; for no other reason than to taste the sweets and share a few moments of relative quietness, away from –otherwise enjoyable but impossibly loud- restaurants like the one in Shimabara, Gion or Ikedaya.

"Shinpachi-san, there is no use nagging. It's too early to go to Gion anyway." Souji commented nonchalantly.

"I must also note that I believe Fukucho's orders include going to the red-light distinct of Gion as well; not only Shimabara."

"That's bullshit, Saito! He never even mentioned Gion."

"Are you willing to test this assumption out, Shinpachi?"

Nagakura gulped, not only because of the frigid askance glance Saito offered him, but also because of the imminent tsunami of ire that threatened to stifle him alive, should Hijikata-san found out that he ignored orders on purpose. Even though, strictly speaking, he would disobey no order by going to Gion. _Right?_ Right. _Probably._

Going alone, though, seemed a pretty lame thing to do, according to Nagakura Shinpachi. Thus, he had no other choice but to comply.

"You fucking idiots," he growled behind gritted teeth, but nonetheless followed the group.

* * *

"Deeewiicccious!" Chizuru mumbled with her mouth full, relishing the taste of the ingredients that were so graciously combined to make those amazingly superb sweets dumplings. Sen smiled as she munched on her own dango. "Seenk wu, Fen-fan."

Senhime laughed in amusement at the spectacle. "Bite and swallow properly first, Chizuru-chan," she advised, assuming her so fitting older sister role character. "And you're very welcome. You shall treat me next time, okay?"

"Surely!" Chizuru assured, after she finally having managed to swallow her bite properly. "That's a promise, Sen-chan."

"Beside," She leaned closer. "My intentions are not completely pure, so that's one more reason not to thank me," she added impishly, and refused to meet Chizuru's probing gaze. "You know I am also doing this to bribe you to agree to my offer. But anyway, what else is there to eat? Maybe something even more delicious can contribute to my efforts," Sen murmured and sceptically brought her thumb to her lips, eyeing the Fruit merchant across the street almost hungrily.

Chizuru laughed at the spectacle and rolled the sleeves of her long garment up to her elbows, while she grabbed another hanami dumpling.

Sen closely watched as her friend struggled with the long mantle. She had to pay a comment to this _ensemble_. Her secret plan was hesitantly starting to commence."You can take it off, you know," she urged teasingly while taking her own hanami dango to eat. Chocolate hues blinked at her questioningly. "The mantle," Sen clarified. "You seem to face great difficulty to eat in this. Why don't you just loosen it a little and eat like a proper human? Not to mention that this is going to positively _excite_ the people around us," she snickered playfully.

Chizuru was certain Sen chose those particular words on purpose. She knew that Chizuru was slightly agoraphobic. Not to mention that she was completely terrified of young men and their advances. She was not to blame entirely. After all, the girl was never presented with a proper chance to accumulate adequate experience in order to properly handle men courting her.

Sen somewhat expected the bright flush that came to paint her friend's cheeks a bright cute scarlet and tried to muffle her laughter at the spectacle. "I am just teasing you, Chizuru-chan." she assured and pinched her friend's sides playfully.

"Moo, please stop doing that."

"Why should I? Besides, you are wearing clothes underneath. The fact that you hate them is only a personal problem of yours."

"You mean to say _quirk_ like you did before?" Chizuru challenged.

"Oh, yes. That's a very nice way to put it, Chizuru-chan."

Chizuru clicked her tongue and pouted stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I want ten." A very loud voice perked up from their side, along with the characteristic sound of sandals clashing against the pavement.

"Ten of what?"

And because of the existence of sandals, the owners probably were-

"Ten skewers, of course."

"By yourself? You're gonna die from overdose, Shinpachi-san."

-expected to be none of the normal people, sauntering around the Market Place. Because few to none peasants actually owned the money to support the purchase of sandals. Expect if the sandals were a necessity in their line of work.

"You wanted dango, didn't ya? Let me enjoy them, at least. Order some tea as well, Saito."

"Understood."

"Sano, what about you?"

"Normal ration, if you please."

"Okay, then. One Shinpachi-san _tera_-ration, four normal ones, right?"

"And tea, Souji! Don't forget the tea! Can't have dango without tea."

"How about a block of ice? Man, it's so hot today."

Another alarming thought joined in the dance that was currently unfolding in Chizuru's mind. Because when sandals clanked against the pavement, it signaled that the Royal Guard was nearing closer and closer. And yet it seemed almost impossible for that to be the case now. But the feeling this abrupt appearance -nearly powerful enough to even rival the intensity of a small explosion- allowed to swell inside Chizuru was so familiarly and yet so strangely uncanny, it was almost unsettling. She could not properly or definitely place this feeling at all, despite her greatest efforts.

Chizuru hardly ever had a chance to meet any officer face to face. And for that she was glad and grateful beyond belief. Because, if one had issues to take care of with the Royal Guard of Edo it spelled nothing but trouble.

The shoes were clear evidence. And the size of the men, as far as she could vaguely guess by their shadows -because, of course, she refused to pay closer attention and incriminate herself- very much fitted the description she often came to hear about the Guard's Officers.

One thing that did not add up to her careful calculations, though, was that the men were not clad in the Asagiro Haori Uniform, that was so characteristic of the Guard. She knew, without needing to inspect and scrutinize, because the distinct light blue was impossible to miss even from afar. Or, perhaps, all civilians were trained to distinguish it easily; she had no way to know which of the two was_ firstly_ true.

Thus, Chizuru was probably entitled to retain her doubts about the identity of the clamorous clients. Those doubts, though, were promptly lifted as soon as Sen's next words –just barely a whisper- reached her ears.

"What is the Royal Guard doing here?" A very peculiar frown of confusion and puzzlement stretched her mesmerizing features as she eyed the men far more closely than Chizuru could even dare to imagine.

Chizuru, on the other hand, dared not raise her gaze even a centimeter above the cup containing her green tea, or the plate of the dango. She only hoped that they wouldn't suspect them upon accidentally spotting Sen studying them curiously.

In any case, she could not stem the next words that so unexpectedly slipped away from her lips. "Are you familiar with them, Sen-chan?"

She was a Noble. And they probably were members of the Royal Guard. Therefore-

"Hm, yes and no," she offered her vague, not a bit helpful response. "I wouldn't go as far as to claim I _know_ them, but-" she trailed off and veered to regard Chizuru properly and dart a kind smile at her. "Don't let it bother you. They are just costumers here. And since you have yet to _murder _someone, you are as safe as a peacock in the dessert."

Chizuru hardly resisted the sudden urge to spit out the last remnants of tea that remained in her mouth; but that would be improper and very un-lady-like under any circumstances. She couldn't let this absurd choice of words pass unnoticed either, though.

The image of a peacock not even remotely resembled or fitted her. They were amazingly beautiful creatures, but is she was allowed to pay a comment on the subject she would also say they were quite vain and self-centered. She could tell by the flamboyant manner in which they fluttered around their –undoubtedly beautiful- feathers and flaunted them around for the world to admire. One thing she could not deny is that they were a symbol of unique and natural, perhaps also quite lonely in its give, beauty that needed to be put on display.

Chizuru could hardly even compare with a peacock. But, inside, she knew that Sen's placement of these words was not random or accidental at all. A _peacock_ sauntering around in the_ dessert ._ . . She wanted to make a point by it, which Chizuru vehemently refused to acknowledge in the fashion Sen wished her to. And hence, she focused on the main and most worrying problematic detail of Sen's last words.

Chizuru gaped incredulously and raised an eyebrow. "Do peacocks even survive in the dessert?" The only response she received was Sen's taunting laughter.

* * *

"Do you think the dango have gone bad 'cause of the heat?" Shinpachi wondered, eyeing the dumpling with a great sense of concern and suspicion.

"No. I think you probably had too much," Sano countered casually, munching on his own dango and leaned away from the table, allowing his upper body to finally rest at the back of his chair.

"Shinpachi-san, you are awfully talkative today, aren't you?" Souji pointed out as he slowly sipped his tea.

"Well, I can't help it. I need to vent. I had other plans for the day, ya see. Which, by the way, you all ruined progressively."

"Progressively?" Heisuke tauntingly parroted in disbelief. "Such advanced vocabulary."

It was a miracle how Heisuke managed to evade the dango stick, preventing it from being impaled on his blue-green eyes.

"Moron!" Shinpachi growled and took another generous bite. "If you must know, I am pretty damn able to how to hold a proper conversation, when I want to."

Souji gave off his trademark impish smile and turned to Saito at his left. Upon sighting him his smile disappeared. "Hajime-kun," the Captain of the First Division asked for Saito's attention. "Pensive much? What's bothering you?"

Hajime slowly proceeded to place his teacup on the table. "Not pensive. Wary," he clarified. Souji arched a questioning eyebrow. "Those women right there," he gestured at the general direction using only his bright blue eyes. "They are watching us closely."

"Hm." Souji only hummed.

Hearing those words, Nagakura immediately perked up. "Really? Where, Saito?"

"You mean those sitting next to that old couple over there?" Sano probed, finishing his tea with a long deep sip. Saito nodded. "Don't bother, Shinpachi." He warned and casually continued enjoying his dango.

"Ha? Why not?" Shinpachi demanded almost angrily.

"To put it simply, Shinpachi-san, those gals are not staring at _you,_" Heisuke pointed out, while grinning in a sneering manner.

"Why not?" he repeated. "See those amazing muscles?" he lifted his right arm to show his chiseled body. "Those beauties formed by endless hours of swordsmanship; this body is the greatest gift ever brought to Earth. A true sculpture descending from the heavens-" he continued on flaunting and admiring himself ridiculously, but his words had already faded before they even reached his companions' ears.

"So, _why not_ bother? Why should I even _allow _any chick around to even think of shying away from me, or, _worse,_ drive her away myself? What _do_ you know, Heisuke? Why deny them the luxury to stare at my perfectly muscled body?"

"Oh, those girls do know a lot about muscled bodies." Heisuke chuckled. His courageous, but failing, attempt at trying to control his laughter was evident by his shaking shoulders.

"Souji."

Okita gazed sideways to Saito, who was staring at him intently. "Yes, Hajime-kun?"

Hajime's eyes narrowed pointedly "That's why they appeared familiar." Souji said nothing to ascertain or deny the silent claim of his friend.

Nagakura's eyes shot from one man to another. "What the hell-?"

"Don't you recognize them, Shinpachi? Not even that blondie? You are the one who introduced us. Right, Souji?" Sano winked playfully, immensely entertained by his friend's comic reactions.

"Is that so, Sano-san? All I remember from that night is-"

"Let's leave it there," Saito stopped Okita in time.

Souji rolled his eyes. "You are being too modest, Hajime-kun."

At that point, Shinpachi must have finally deciphered what he struggled to understand. His eyes widened in pure shock and terror as he gawked at seemingly nowhere.

"Fuck! Did you have to remind me _that_?"

"You were the one who insisted, though." Souji calmly pointed out and with green eyes as calculating and mischievous as ever he gestured to Sano with a single glance. A second later two dango sticks from Shinpachi's plate had magically found themselves on Souji's and Sano's own respectively, of course unbeknownst to the man.

Shinpachi spent many long moments in the midst of –insufferable for his friends- nagging, until- "I know I am not crazy, dammit." He clapped his hands once in realization. "I thought something was wrong." He leaned closer to the table and gestured at the rest to join. At first no man moved, since they had long since stopped listening to his actual words. But this peculiar secretive manner in which Shinpachi called for their attention could not pass unnoticed.

"Say, is that _the_ Senhime?" he bobbed his head to the side; voice barely above a whisper.

Heisuke moved slightly to gain access to a better view."Can't be," he murmured, while discreetly trying to eye the person in question.

"Damn! I can't see her bottom clearly enough to tell. What do you say, Sano?" Nagakura turned to the red-haired Captain.

Sanosuke narrowed his amber eyes and rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "By inspecting the waist line..."

"Yes, yes!" Shinpachi nodded vehemently.

"Calculating the general layout of breast area..." he trailed off once again as, slowly, a very lecherous smirk came to settle on his lips.

"My thoughts exactly!"

"What is she doing here, though?" Heisuke pressed further, effectively stopping their peculiar back and forth.

Shinpachi shrugged. "Beats me. I don't give a shit as long as I can ogle with no compunctions. Just thought I should point that out."

"Who is the person escorting her?" Hajime wondered. Souji attempted to give one closer look, but the person in question had their back turned on them, rendering any recognition attempts nearly impossible.

"Why would a Noblewoman come to a dangoya?" Heisuke insisted, trying to find his answers in the others' eyes.

"I wouldn't know," Sano started. "But at least it looks like it's not a date. The person sitting next to her seems more like a gal to me."

"True. Look at this round little bottom. Definitely a girl, I'd say."

And the moment Shinpachi-san's words left his loud mouth, the part of Souji that was _always_, no matter the circumstances, lusting over women screamed out and roared in gear. Cursing himself for not noticing earlier, he tried to compensate by shamelessly ogling at the girl's rear end.

Sadly, the girl must have at least sensed _some _of the power of their intense merciless ogling and slightly fidgeted, while whispering something to Senhime.

He shouldn't have. But he felt utterly disappointed that he had no direct way of taking at least a glimpse of the girl's face properly. And that aforementioned incredibly lustful and vain part of him even felt surprisingly irritated when the pair of young women departed the dangoya, without not even sparing a glance at his direction. It felt as thought it was an indirect hit towards his manliness; and not only Souji's.

"Damn," Shinpachi cursed behind gritted teeth.

* * *

_***Suzuka**: Sen's last name is derived by her ancestor Suzuka Gozen._

_***Dango**: Japanese dumplings and sweets made of rice flour. Often served with green tea. Dango is eaten year-round, but the different varieties are traditionally eaten in given seasons. Three to four dango are often served on a skewer._

_***Hanami Dango:** The dango we mostly see in anime. It is three-colored and is traditionally made during the Sakura-viewing season._

_*******Dangoya:** Dango Shop_

_***Asagiro Haori:** The light blue coat of the Shinsengumi we all know._

* * *

**Author's Note**

* * *

_Oh, dear. This came out longer than expected! Well, no matter; if you enjoyed it that's all that counts! _

_You thought they were going to meet, didn't you? I apologize if I ruined your expectations, but please fear not! Hmm, things will roll in time for the two, despite this first awkward and shameless ogling 'experience'. It just goes to show the men's, particularly Souji's, womanizing tendencies in this story. All those traits of his character have a meaning, though, I assure you. Oh, before I leave you be for a while, let's not forget to welcome dear Senhime, who hardly lets on what she is really planning underneath. Take my word for it. _(^.~)

_And, please, keep your eyes open for the Mangetsu Cotillion! I have great plans for it, so you should probably remember it, ne?_

_-Dango are used purely for entertainment purposes. The fact that they eat hanami dango does not necessarily mean that it's during Hanami season. ^.^ And yes! I demand dango be made and eaten in imaginary dessert kingdoms. Those in favor join my -imaginary as well- petition. _(^.~)/_  
_

_Thanks for reading! Please be kind enough to **review**! Even a word or two is fine and greatly welcomed and appreciated!  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Honest thank you and love to _**MysteriousLittleChild_, _****OniKuShita_, _****5namida, ****alohamiems **_and_** Entiya **_for reviewing!_

_Special Thanks to _**5namida**_ for beta-reading this chapter!_

_The Theme Song for the first scene of this Chapter is _**Reluctant Heroes**_ from the Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin OST. Please, if possible, take a look at the lyrics because they are very beautiful and some lines greatly remind me of the things I have in mind for this story. You do not have to listen to it while reading, since it's not meant to build up the atmosphere. But it would be nice if you could somewhat feel the song's vibe.  
_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hakuoki.

* * *

**Fiery Green**

**~Chapter 4~**

* * *

_Don't you know, forgotten is the life we led  
Now it seems you don't care what the risk is  
The peaceful times are what made us blind  
_

_It was like a nightmare and it's painful for me  
Cause nobody wants to die too fast  
Remember the day of grief  
Now it's strange for me  
I can see your face  
I can hear your voice_

_From my heart  
Don't fall Reluctant Heroes  
Oh give me your strength, our life is so short  
Don't fall Reluctant Heroes  
I wanna be brave like you_

Reluctant Heroes, Shingeki no Kyojin OST

* * *

Souji heaved a long deep sigh. It was unfair. Cruel and unfair.

A few hours ago specific Intel reached the Royal Guard's Headquarters speaking of some rowdy Roshi, that supposedly wrecked havoc at these parts of the city. Thus, he had to come all the way here in the middle of the night. Normally Souji would rejoice, for a chance to fight and slay enemies finally appeared.

But, things did not turn out as he hoped and expected. Not at all.

He hated this quietness. And he hated it with a passion. Because _now _he was supposed to battle and kill all men who were foolish enough to cross blades with him, or even more foolish as to pick a fight with the Royal Guard in general; not just pace down an abandoned street.

He huffed once again. "If walking back and forth around the area was worth the effort, I wouldn't complain much. But the bastards are nowhere in sight. It ticks me off. Don't you agree, Hajime-kun?"

Hajime did not utter a word as the two Divisions marched down the silent street. The lone sounds that ruled the night were the rhythmic meeting of their straw and wooden sandals against the earth and the slight sway of scabbards as their owners walked forwards.

"Boring," Souji intoned childishly and rather reluctantly continued heading west only to turn back again in order to patrol thoroughly. The lone two things that could persuade him not to scoot at the nearest bar, drink his favorite sake and pick a fight, in order to blow off some steam, was the silent, underlying promise of a –hopefully still quite possible- fight and Hajime-kun soundlessly accompanying him at his left, along with his division.

Okita decided not to put an end to the sudden wave of babbling whispers of his soldiers that soon erupted. He knew they had to pay a comment or two after this failure of an incident, much like he wanted to raid the nearest tavern.

"But Fukucho received information~"

"No. It was the Fifth Division that gathered the Intel. Don't mix the two and soil Hijikata-dono's name."

"But it wasn't the Fifth's fault either."

He needn't silence them. If he wanted to be honest with himself, though, it was not because he needed not to, exactly, but mostly because he failed to speak out in time; such was the raw abrupt force of the velocity in which _it_ happened. But it deterred him not. Not even slightly.

Souji could hear the assaulting blade clearer and louder than his comrades' whispers. He _heard_ it roaring for blood; its vehement intention to descend and pass its blind judgment of death upon him echoed and echoed incessantly in his ears.

He refused to succumb and obey to the silent begging of the impending death sentence. Like he always did.

Blades were released from their stifling confines, as Souji and Hajime unsheathed in an amazing but nonetheless tacit display of mastery, supremacy.

"Kumicho!"

Silver lines of light circled around each Captain, forming an orb matching the one ruling the heavens above, as the moon shimmered through the steel blades of their katana.

The characteristic wet sound of slicing flesh echoed through the backstreet. Bodies turned mortally limb and collapsed onto the cold dirt. Souji just barely dodged the spring of scarlet blood, preventing it from staining his haori.

The clamorous response to the lifeless carcasses spoiling the earth came in the form of thunderous, heavy footsteps. And shortly a rather unbidden crowd of thirty men surrounded the First and Third Division threateningly.

"Oh, it seems like my prayers were finally answered." Souji chuckled sardonically, eliciting yet no response from the ever taciturn and highly concentrated Hajime. "That's even better than sending an invitation," he added and closely regarded the group.

It was not long after that the acting Leader came to stand at the apex of the Royal Guard's formation, directly facing the Division Captains. Eyes, colored like dirt itself, bore profound holes as they battled Souji's emerald and Hajime's azure incisive hues.

"You!" he pointed a very offensive scorning index finger, which Souji suddenly desperately wanted to slice off his body. "Are you Okita Souji?"

Hajime only spared a silence meaningful glance to Souji, who was towering proudly at his right.

_So, the bastard wants to play. Good, good. Couldn't have asked for a better chance._

"Hm? So what if I am? Do you perhaps have any business with me?" he teased, his so hellishly impish and mischievous smirk returned in ten times more mighty power to play and settle on his lips.

The man snorted in disgust and spit at the ground before them. Souji's sharp eyes followed the annoying repugnant drop with a great sense of insipidity.

_Oh, how much he wanted to put his foot against the bastard's throat and make him drink his dirty spit directly from the ground._

"Such arrogance!" the Ronin hollered, making Souji slightly grimace. "Men, rejoice!" he addressed to his people. "Today shall be the day we avenge Miyabe-sensei and slay the dishonorable pig that reaped his life away!"

Okita blinked sheepishly and pointed a finger at his own chest in a rather facetious display of . . . frank but still quite hidden excitement.

_Should I feel flattered?_

"Huh. I don't remember the guy." He frowned, pretending to be emerged deep in thought. "Who was that again?"

Anger, no longer possible to suppress, surged from the entire body of the man before Souji, as he clamored and let out a shrill scream. "This is the day you pay for your impudence and insolence. Get him!"

No other order or plea needed to be uttered. Men marched forward; either clouded by vengeance or guided by the great sense of duty that came along the honor of being a member of the Royal Guard.

Swords clashed; metal sliced against metal, and flesh and bones and spirit, penetrating one body after the other in a dance of warmongering despair.

Katana sung their own vociferous melody of death as the moon glinted off the steel and wickedly blinked at the wielders.

Warm blood, that wasn't his own, cascaded down Souji's always partially exposed chest. He parried, ducked and turned, swiveled and smiled sardonically. His lips stretched even further upon watching Hajime dashing a few steps away as his unmatched sword slaughtered everything in a silent and yet so stentorian display of sovereignty, domination, superiority.

Souji roared with laughter and thundered in battle more passionately than a War God himself. His blade conquered everything on its glorious bloody path, ordered by none other than the frantic rhythm of his galloping heart.

* * *

"Teee, I am beat!" Heisuke grunted as he plopped down on the floor in surrender.

"Your clothes are soaked in blood. Don't just lie there. You will stain the floor as well," Saito noted, while carefully cleaning his blade using the cold water and white cloth Yamazaki Susumu just previously offered him.

Heisuke reluctantly straightened up. "Moo, Hajime-kun."

Muffled voices were suddenly heard from the Hall, as the last members of the Guard finally returned to Headquarters.

"Yo!" Sano greeted upon entering the room. "Today was rather fun, don't you think?" he chuckled while untying the knot that secured his Hitai-ate. The Tenth Division was the hindmost to arrive, and upon sighting the last of their remaining comrades returning mostly unscathed, the rest of the men seemed to unconsciously breathe a sigh of relief.

"Sano!" Nagakura raised his fist to bump it with Harada's. "How did it go?"

"You know, the usual."

"If I may, what I don't understand is," Yamazaki, one of the Guard's highest-ranking officers beside the Division Captains, started "why the groups seemed to belong to the same regiment and yet not."

"Eh? What is that supposed to mean, Yamazaki-kun?" Souji probed, finally disrobing from his bloody haori and soaking it into the basin along with the rest of their tarnished clothing.

"What is so difficult to grasp, Souji?" Hijikata angrily sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Your foes claimed to have come to enact vengeance against you. Wasn't that what was included in yours and Saito's report?"

_Hm, probably._

"Yes, Fukucho," Hajime assumed the liberty of clarifying.

"But what business did they have with us?" Sano continued the trail of thought. "Not that I minded a little bit of action, per se. But none of the bastards we encountered spoke of Souji. As though it was about something else entirely."

"Impossible!" Heisuke exclaimed, while receiving a dump cloth from Shinpachi to wipe his arms after the larger man finished with his own. "If they only wanted Souji, why would they attack all Divisions at the same time?"

Shinpachi grunted. "That was stupid. The bastards didn't even have an ounce of true warrior spirit in them. They fought like freaking amateurs."

"They also allowed precious Intel on them to leak," Saito pointed out nonchalantly, having in mind that they moved out because of several reports on some ronin in the first place.

"Now that I think about it... Maybe they wanted to attack all troops simultaneously to prevent us from helping Souji or something. That's the only reason I can come up with."

"Hmm, smells fishy to me. If they were so well prepared, they would have brought more capable fighters for us to battle, Heisuke," Sano commented, as he finally finished cleaning the tip of his Yari. He was also very curious about the meager skills they displayed. It simply made no sense.

Saito nodded in agreement. "And if they wished for misleading information to purposefully spread on their favor they would have enacted the plan in more detail."

Many heads shook affirmatively, before one voice towered over them all.

"One thing was made obvious today." Hijikata straightened his posture and addressed to all the Captains that occupied the chamber. "Our enemies have started initiating their plans of attack. Coordinated or not, those attacks were not random."

None uttered a single word at this conclusion.

"When Kondou-san returns from the Meeting, I shall inform him thoroughly of tonight's incident. But you should all remember. Do not act recklessly and keep your eyes peeled. This is not a time we can afford to be absent-minded."

* * *

Brown eyes blinked sleepily under the sheets. One coy and reluctant hand slowly rose from under the thin coverlet.

"Mmmm" was the only sound that slipped past her lips.

Chizuru rolled to the side to face the ceiling with eyes emptied of every coherent feeling. A vagrant ray of light invaded her personal space and shined just upon her rosy cheek; it was a small nudge that she needed in order to properly wake and prepare for the day.

A pair of unwilling slender legs kicked the sheet away as they came into view and with one last decisive thrust the girl pulled herself into a standing position. She slightly wobbled, but soon managed to reach the small table that was placed in her small poorly-furnitured room and grab her usual attire.

She disrobed of her pink night gown and put on her long favorite gray skirt. In a rare moment of self-awareness and peculiar concern over her general appearance she grabbed a yellow linen belt, that Sannan-san had once presented to her as a birthday gift, and secured it around her small waist with a delicate knot, placing it just above the hem of her skirt. The fabric was wide enough to reach just under her navel. That way she surprisingly felt slightly more covered, since the traditional skirts just barely covered enough area to reach her hip bones.

_How ridiculous_, Chizuru often mused. The skirts reached easily down to her ankles. Why couldn't the weavers spare a little fabric to use on the upper part, then?

Shaking her head to prevent herself from yammering again about her attire, she carefully eyed a lime colored breast-band she owned, that was of her liking today, and secured it tightly around her chest. She also picked up her favorite traditional bracelets, secured them around her upper arm, and chose one of her most comfortable pairs of anklets to adorn her feet.

A few minutes later she had already washed her face and teeth and was heading towards her workshop.

"Good morning!' she waved jovially at her senior.

Sannan-san paused his work for a moment to regard his apprentice. "Good morning, Yukimura-kun," he smiled warmly and cordially. "You look so full of life and energy. I surely hope you ate the bread I left for you at the table."

Well, _she didn't._ But he needn't have to know that. Chizuru did not usually like to lie, no matter the reason. Thus, she said nothing. Instead she sent him a very warm debonair smile.

Sannan closed his eyes for a second, slowly releasing a silent breath."I am afraid we'll have many orders to deliver and take care of today," he murmured skeptically.

Chizuru drew her palms together in front of her chest. "I am glad to hear that!" she honestly exclaimed.

Sannan chuckled. "Here I am complaining about the load of work and you look enthusiastic. Age must be catching up on me."

She blinked in surprise. "No, Sannan-san, it's just-" But she found no proper words right away. "You are not old!" she lastly defended, but he only chuckled more.

* * *

Toudou Heisuke was a man renowned for his enthusiasm. Always thirsty for adventure and adrenaline, always excited; hardly never could one find him _not_ smiling in glee and mirth.

Now, though, his precious smile and mesmerizing blue-green hues were clouded by a strong sense of despondency and despair.

"It's the end. . . It's ruined. Totally ruined. . ." he sobbed and mumbled, gaze held lowered in grief.

Sano just entered the room, initially in order to retrieve his haori to head out on patrol, only to spot the boy sulking at the balcony. "What is ruined?" he probed curiously.

Shinpachi, who had already worn his own haori and prepared himself for his rounds, silently pointed at the blade lying abandoned a few steps away from Heisuke. Sano neared the katana and inspected it closely, but without picking it up. Because the problem was brightly obvious even from afar.

"Who or _what_ on earth damaged it so much?"

Shinpachi didn't get to warn Sano in time. His palm clammed the red-haired's mouth shut a moment too late.

Upon hearing those words, Heisuke nervously tapped his feet against the floor repeatedly. "Ahhhh!" he grunted and indignantly pulled at his hair, in a manner that felt very much unsettling to his friends.

Sano slapped Shinpachi's hand away from his mouth and turned to whisper. "What the hell happened?" But Shinpachi did not get to answer.

"It's totally in rags! I cannot use it anymore! It's _ruined, _I am telling ya!"

Shinpachi's face contorted in mild annoyance and indignation as he explained."He's been like that since morning," he huffed.

"What is this hellishly awful cry? Did anyone skewer a kitten or something?" the very familiar voice of Souji entered the ensemble, the moment he and Hajime just returned from their early morning rounds.

"Kitten!?" Heisuke hollered in shock, but soon averted his inane eyes, that only momentarily turned to regard Souji and Hajime, and cast them towards the horizon again.

"Is something the matter?" Saito wondered, removing his haori and assessing this plight of a spectacle.

"No." Shinpachi shook his head. "Just Heisuke."

Which, frankly, was a problem and a worrying matter by itself.

"Oya, who is dumb enough to leave his blade unsheathed in the middle of the floor?" Souji asked mockingly and picked the blade up. "Wait till I pass these news to Hijikata-san."

"Shuuush!" Shinpachi brought a finger to his own lips, signaling Souji to silence. To no avail again, though. Heisuke let out another clamorous sob the very moment Souji's taunting words reached his ears.

At the same time, another person in the room couldn't possibly tolerate such a blatant mistreating of a precious blade. He nodded to Souji, who complied and handed him the weapon from the hilt.

When the next words were finally paid, Heisuke, still adamantly refusing to turn towards the others, wailed and pulled on his hair even more fiercely.

"This blade is done for," Hajime concluded.

It wasn't like Heisuke did not know. Oh, _he knew_, the moment he grasped his blade again this morning. And right that very moment he curled his fingers around the hilt and measured his long steel companion he could feel the fingers of dread poking at the base of his spine. Heisuke was quite aware –perhaps more than quite- this whole plight was his own fault and no one else's.

It was true that he had been very much enthusiastic during last night's _endeavors_, but he never would have imagined he would be _dumb_ enough to damage his blade so greatly. And thus, he could do nothing but mourn for the irreplaceable loss.

"I know, dammit!" he sobbed again.

Shinpachi stepped closer to him and patted his friend's shoulder affectionately. "It served its purpose. Now it's time to bid your old buddy goodbye, Heisuke," he tried to console the younger man.

"But, I don't wanna!"

Souji rolled his eyes. "Heisuke, you are yammering like a spoiled brat."

"Shinpachi is right, Heisuke. Make peace with what happened. Nothing can be done now, can it?" At those last words Sano turned to Saito, the glorified sword-loving-expert of the group, who understood his tacit question and shook his head.

_No. _

"It's proper time you visit the artisan," Saito suggested, his voice laced with a great sense of finality.

Heisuke's eyes shot up to furiously glower at Hajime. "_Artisan_? The blacksmith? Easy for you to say, Hajime-kun. My wage is hardly enough for that!" he cried once again.

Sano and Shinpachi shared indignant glasses. Their patience was running out. _One more ear-piercing cry like that and Heisuke would promptly end up face-first on the pavement._

"Yare yare, Heisuke. That's a blatant lie. Your wage is enough to support the purchase of a good blade. The problem is that you spend it drinking at the brothels, instead," Souji pointed out teasingly and plopped down at the nearest chair.

That, apparently, was deemed enough to stir and rouse Heisuke from his spot. The boy suddenly leaped and pulled himself in a quite provoking standing position. Souji curiously observed Heisuke's small fingers curling into tense fists at his sides.

"Y-you shut it, Souji! You're not one to talk about brothels!"

"Heisuke," Hajime demanded his attention. The boy turned to look at him closely as Saito uttered out rationally and perfectly calmly. "You cannot battle with a weakened blade."

Toudou lowered his head and cast his gaze at the floor in shame. "I know." His voice just barely reached above a whisper. "But-"

"You are a _Captain,_" he stressed the word emphatically, "of the Royal Guard. If you do not take care of your weapon, then you deserve no-"

"Alright, alright! Geez. I understand. I swear, Hajime-kun, you sound like Hijikata-san sometimes."

Saito batted his eyes once. "I must admit, I fail to understand why you seem to have intended those words as an insult."

"Yeah, I figured. You_ Hijikata-weirdo_!" Heisuke grunted and rubbed the side of his head exasperatedly.

A moment later blue-green eyes, hiding silent pleas, landed at Shinpachi. He shook his head. "Sorry, Heisuke, but Sano and I have some patrolling to do." He lifted his hand to show his haori and Sano's; they were almost ready to depart. In fact they were rather late. And they _absolutely did not_ want to confront an angered Hijikata. "You have to go without us."

Heisuke's face fell dramatically and his shoulders sagged in disappointment. He lowered his gaze towards the ground, but soon a pair of legs slid into view. He raised his head again only to tryst Hajime's firm gaze.

"You accompanied me when I needed it," he showed him his new attire, which he had already started wearing, "and I shall return the favor."

Heisuke finally allowed his lips to stretch in order to form his first honest smile for the day. And after witnessing this small attempt towards retrieving the old Heisuke back from the clutches of sulkiness, the whole room seemed to heave a silent breath of candid relief.

"Wait," Souji exclaimed and secured at his belt his wakizashi and katana, that cried for a chance to be properly taken care of by a technician. "I am coming too."

* * *

"Oh, no!" She couldn't stem the small cry that left her lips. Sannan suddenly appeared from behind the door, eyes blinking curiously.

"Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"

Chizuru shook her head vehemently. "No. But, my. . .apron. . ." she trailed off and showed him the clothing.

It was nearly all burnt up.

"How did this happen?" Sannan asked, nearing to inspect the fabric. He knew Yukimura-kun would never neglect to properly put the apron at its rightful –and safe- place. After all, it was very dear to her and essential in this line of work; it protected her from the roaring heat of the forged blades and the sharpness of their steel.

"I do not know. I just left it here yesterday evening. Like always," she explained and after he craned his neck towards her, Chizuru handed him the apron.

He inspected the damage for a second. "It looks almost completely burnt." Chizuru's eyes widened in shock and consternation. "It must have made contact with some kind of scorching substance or a surface heated enough to burn it."

"But it never had before, and-"

"I am confident that you took care of it as you were supposed to Yukimura-kun," he reassured. "But this poor piece of fabric has suffered enough as it is already. After all, you use it for many years. Am I wrong?"

Chizuru silently shook her head once more and heaved out a sigh. A warm hand came to pat her head affectionately.

"Fear not. I shall buy a new one for you today."

Her eyes snapped to meet his. "No, please, you don't need to! I-"

"You can't possibly busy yourself with the ironworks without a proper apron," he interrupted her. "What if you get burnt despite your greatest efforts? You are very talented, yes. But you and I both are aware of the mighty power and danger that comes hand in hand with forging and wielding a blade. You shall work in the front counter today."

"But-"

"I won't accept no for an answer, Yukimura-kun. We have many orders to take care of. I cannot afford to risk your health. I was meaning to go to the Central Street and make some purchases anyway. I will be back soon and you will be able to resume your work. Alright?"

Under his mighty prompting gaze, that seemed to reach deep within her mind and soul, she had no choice but to accept the conditions and nod affirmatively.

He promptly released her from his firm eye-lock and moved to pick up a list of items he needed to buy.

"Sannan-san," Chizuru started hesitantly. He veered to look at her. "Since you are going to the Market, do you think you could pick up a brush or two? The latest order pushed our old brushes to the limits, I fear."

In order to properly explain she showed him the scabbard she was working on the day before and the brushes she used, which were by now rendered nearly useless.

Sannan nodded and scribbled something down on his list. "Of course. I'll be sure to get a couple of good brushes. The order is scheduled to be delivered by the start of the next week, yes?"

"Right. In four days," she clarified.

"Good," he replied and soon was ready to head out.

Chizuru saw the man off with a great sense of sadness marring her features. She hated having to sit to the counter. And she passionately despised the fact that she had to perform this task without her apron to cover her body.

Lost in her own private delirium she decided to clean the front counter a little, beside the fact that it was already clean enough, and arrange a couple of tools the way she thought fit. As she whirled around, dusting, wiping and generally putting some order in the shop, she was once again reminded why she hated being in the front counter. It felt _too much. . . something_. Was it the light? The view? She snorted in an un-lady-like manner at these options, but upon realizing what she did clamped her mouth shut with both hands. She heaved a sigh of relief when she ascertained that she was alone in the store and none was present to see her ridiculing herself by snorting like that. Fortunately for her, costumers had yet to arrive to stress the matter more.

Without realizing, her feet guided her back in her work place only a heartbeat after.

_If anyone comes in, I'll hear the bell ring. I don't have to stand there like an idiot._

Chizuru deeply inhaled and wiped just a little bit of her –almost constantly neat- counter. That's when she noticed them. The brushes.

She was the one that was responsible for buying them the previous time. She knew for a fact that the owner of the shop that sells this specific branch was by now quite senile. He displayed great difficulty into measuring the worth, material and size of each brush as of late. Not to mention that the numbers of the sizes changed those last couple of months because of a new brand that was recently introduced and rumored to have stirred the entire brush market. That was the exact reason she had to buy new ones the last time around.

Sannan-san would probably need to show their previous brushes in order to acquire the right ones; same size, same material. If the new ones were different than the old, then the difference might be horribly visible on the scabbard's artwork; maybe not before the costumer's eyes, but neither Chizuru nor Sannan-san would ever allow themselves to deliver an order not done carefully and perfectly up to the last tiniest detail.

Her contemplation was paused midway by the distinct sound of the entrance bell, that chimed and woke her from her stupor.

She ran towards the front and locked her eyes expectantly at the person who entered the shop.

"I was about to come and get you, Sannan-san. You forgot the-"

But it was not a _person _that entered the store. They were _people;_ three of them. And Chizuru was confident that she had never set her eyes on them ever before. If she had, she would have remembered, because those three men were, truly, breath-taking-ly beautiful.

* * *

_***Hitai-ate:**_ Forehead protector

* * *

**Author's Note**

* * *

_The first scene was obviously based on and inspired by the first scene on Episode 1 of Hakuouki Sekkaroku. I hope you liked it!  
_

_I have...nothing else to say, I think. I simply hope you are as excited as I am for Chapter 5._ (^.~) _If you are, please let me know, yes? Your kind words are my inspiration!_

**_._**

**Note on the last chapter **

_I would like to clear any misunderstandings or confusion. Some of you mentioned to me that they spotted two particular mistakes on Chapter 3. I want you to know that both were, in a way, intended. Allow me to explain: I used 'wont' as habit, not 'won't', you see. And the [e]xpected was left un-capitalized because I wanted to show that Chizuru's thoughts were interrupted by the loud dialogue and the boys' rambunctious voices. I really wished to properly explain that to you all. I used some 'tricks' to show more clearly what I wanted to portray, so I hope all is fine now.  
_

**_._**

_Thanks for reading! Please give a meaning to my efforts by simply leaving a review! One word is fine, if you prefer. I just want to know if you enjoyed my work!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you to_** OniKuShita, Entiya, 5namida, Tsubasagirl, alohamiems, fallingwisteria, ****my Otonari-chan **_(_**u know who**_) and _**CrownsofLaurels** _for reviewing! You are so supportive! You are my inspiration! I can't thank you enough for your beautiful reviews!  
_

_Special Thanks to beautiful_** 5namida **_for beta-reading this chapter too. I appreciate your precious help so much! Lots of Love!_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hakuoki.

* * *

**Fiery Green**

**~Chapter 5~**

* * *

Chizuru's every movement was abruptly halted. For many long moments she unwillingly relinquished and rescinded every right _and_ ability she only just previously still retained, to command her vocal chords to kick into gear and properly function in order to allow her to articulate coherent sentences.

Her shock and the numbness spreading over the entirety of her petite physique were definitely unexpected -and quite unforgivable- in their sudden vehemency.

Before her stood three steadily-built young men, whose looks involuntarily besought Chizuru to surrender herself into the beauty of the spectacle and momentarily refuse to pay any heed to her surroundings. To focus on them; nothing else.

The sheer intensity of her baffled -and quite honestly shameless and ludicrous- staring was most likely self-explanatory; her thoughts were scattered, twirling and spinning in upheaval, in complete disarray. All remnants of logic seemed to have sought shelter in the deepest chambers of her mind, denying her access to their power out of pure unforgiving stubbornness.

But... It was still absurd to entertain the notion that the air had stilled inside her lungs _because_ of the men's sudden appearance, wasn't it? _Wasn't it?_ Highly uncanny to even consider._  
_

Her body tensed and stiffened as she studied them meticulously.

The shortest of the trio retained very long unruly brown hair, which he held in a high ponytail, except for his playful bangs that concealed the entirety of his forehead from view. His eyes twinkled a brilliant blue-green that seemed to have locked on Chizuru's petite form in a very awkward manner. He wore a bright yellow top, greatly resembling a traditional Edo vest, that left his arms and parts of his chest exposed, tied in the middle by a red thick sash, that also served to support his sword. His purple short pants were tied in the knees by white straps. His feet, Chizuru noticed, were covered by straw sandals.

The second tallest man radiated a sense distinctly different from the other two, and quite frankly different from_ most_ people Chizuru had ever encountered during her short lifetime. He held his striking indigo hair tied in a side low ponytail; they flowed gently and graciously over his right shoulder. His hues, alluringly half-concealed by many strands of hair, were colored a magnificent disarming blue that vividly reminded Chizuru of the beautiful oasis that she had always dreamed of visiting. He was clad into a long white robe-like garment that reached just below his groin with sleeves stretching only up to his forearms. A very long dark blue hakama covered the entirety of his legs. His swords were held in his right side –Chizuru noticed that in mild surprise- and were supported by a dark blue sash wrapped around his white rob, matching his hakama in color.

Her breath hitched. Upon resting her eyes at the third and admittedly the tallest of the three, Chizuru had to visibly gulp more than once, in order to swallow down her saliva. She needed to somehow get rid of the lump that had provokingly settled inside her burning throat and compose herself before her dignity and self-respect could fly out the window without her signed consent.

His hair shone a brilliant ardent auburn, that must have been _evidently_ kissed by the Sun God himself. He held half of his unruly locks into a top knot at the back of his head, while his bangs were graciously brushing his forehead and almost covered his beautiful. . . _mesmerizing _eyes. A sizzling sheen of green so bright she was unable to place into the same category of colors that were designed in the human world. A green so alluring that grasped her in a grip so mighty and steel, she was unable to even entertain the thought of escaping from its confinement, because it also felt. . . so _right _and delectable_. ._ .

His hues bore at her, emerald and glorious, sharp and intelligent as he peered over her carefully.

He wore a red top, trimmed at the edge with golden lineal patterns, somewhat similar to the one his indigo-haired partner was clad in; his own top, though, left his chest exposed in manner which Chizuru would probably describe as very teasing and . . . very sensual. His bright green hakama, that so greatly matched his stunning eyes, was tied at the calves by white straps, leaving a great portion of his legs uncovered. He also wore straw sandals identical to the ones of the shorter man. His own swords were secured in place by a brightly-white sash around his middle. He, Chizuru noticed in mild consternation, had tied the white fabric impossibly low and the fact that his top was left mostly open did not ease the tension Chizuru felt overwhelming her. One more inch was needed and even his navel would be left exposed.

She abruptly slapped herself mentally. _What on earth are you doing, Chizuru! Focus!_

_Oh, dear, _she heaved a sigh.

Apparently, the sudden arrival of those men –hopefully costumers- proved to be a very calamitous and detrimental event for Chizuru. For she had never caught herself ogling anyone so shamelessly before. This abrupt eruption of unfamiliar senses that was uncoiling inside of her somehow punctuated the fact that she was a woman, and that they were very beautiful male specimen.

It was highly unbecoming and unnerving; a situation that warranted that she retained every right to, by all means, drown herself into a pit and never resurface.

Chizuru could not even properly begin to describe how profusely ashamed she felt for staring so intently. For a moment she could not even be thoroughly certain that this body she occupied was indeed Yukimura Chizuru's; hers and no one else's. What exactly was taking place inside or outside her mind was a foggy intricate enigma, a mystery she had currently no hope of solving.

Her eyes dropped low in shame as she raked a coy hand through her hair, attempting to regain control over her own treacherous self.

She coughed quite loudly in order to clear her suddenly very rusty and sore throat and mend the unease of this lengthy silence, that seemed to have produced aggressive tusks and bared them against her. The voice that came out of her lips felt very much raspy and hoarse.

"M-May I help you?" she hesitantly asked, coyly attempting to finally stir herself into action.

The indigo-haired man stepped closer and regarded her closely, blue eyes seemingly scrutinizing every contour of her body and mind alike. "We are looking for Sannan Keisuke. Is he present?"

_Wh- what kind of sensual manner of talking was that? _She inwardly thought and mentally slapped herself once again, this time with a great deal more force and ferocity.

Chizuru gulped. "N-no." Her ridiculous stammering had her dig her front teeth at her soft lips in shame. She straightened her posture to provide herself with a bit more bravado. "Is there something I could help you with?" she finally managed to inquire with a steady voice.

The brown-haired youth followed his friend's lead, stepping closer as well. "I thought Hajime-kun mentioned once that Sannan-san was not married."

"He is not," the blue-eyed one insisted. He then turned to Chizuru again, only to watch the girl searchingly. "Is he?"

Silence met his question. For Chizuru needed a couple of moments to register the mere fact that the question was addressed to her. She shook her head insistently. "No, no!"

"Really? That's weird. Why did Sannan-san leave such a chance go to waste? It's true I don't see him as often as Hajime-kun, but I know for sure than Sannan-san is no idiot. And certainly not blind." The last man stressed his words in a very peculiar and unsettling manner, most likely implying things the girl was not able to place a proper meaning or definition upon. Breaking into an arrant wicked smile and relentlessly pining her down with a firm smoldering green gaze, he shortly decided to take one step closer towards the young apprentice, moving to stand side by side with the other two.

To her innocent eyes it felt as though a pack of wolves was intending on surrounding her in order to mercilessly devour every piece of her body _and_ resolve. Chizuru impulsively flinched and abated, taking a step back as a response to his threatening advance._ Oh, it was threatening..._ Because it felt as if this man in particular was deliberately trying to intimidate her or weave confusion over her with his words and actions alike. And as though ... she would burn irrevocably if she were to stand very close.

"Souji! You're frightening her!" the youngest-looking one chided and furrowed his brows at his comrade.

"Hmm?" He arched a fine eyebrow at her and leaned closer. "Am I that scary, sweetheart?" At those words, she must have probably floundered.

Chizuru distinctively sensed how the air came to once again abruptly still in her lungs with a great sense of dreadful conclusive finality, refusing to stir ever again, and how a deafening cry of an unidentified wave of consternation and restlessness started to swell inside her like an acute scream. Suddenly her throat was burning in a merciless conflagration.

_S-S-Sw . . .Sweetheart? _

"Souji." She could almost hear the silent order from the most serious looking of the three ringing in her ears. _'Behave'._

"Hai, hai, Hajime-kun." The green-eyed man obliged and leaned away again, but he did not omit to wink playfully at Chizuru before doing so nonetheless.

She was confident her legs would soon abandon any hope of functioning properly ever again under the obtrusive force of this unbidden pressure, and unforgivably buckle underneath her.

Why?! Why did Sannan-san have to be away _now_ of all times?

Her chest deflated as she exhaled a heavy sharp but deep breath. "Ehm, do you perhaps need to place an order?" she nearly spluttered tentatively, throat and cheeks still feeling as if burning ablaze. "Sannan-san should probably return in an hour or so," she informed locking her gaze at her fidgeting fingers, poking her index ones against each other nervously. "But if you need anything I'd be happy to offer assistance. I am Sannan-san's~"

"Concubine?" the tallest man offered teasingly. The moment she properly registered the meaning of those words she distinctly felt all heat from her body embarrassingly accumulate on her face. She probably also let out a small squeak. And floundered once again.

"Souji!" he was scolded again, but that hardly seemed to have daunted the man.

"N-n-no. . ." Chizuru managed to utter with great difficulty and gingerly dared voice out, "A-apprentice."

At that moment, she took hold of his rapt attention. Souji blinked twice, the devilish gleam of his eyes ever refusing to waver, even behind closed eyelids, and arched both his brows questioningly. "Well, I cannot decide if I am mostly glad you are not his concubine or completely shocked that you claim to be his apprentice, really," he teased, closely watching her melting in embarrassment before the unquestionable power of his witty remarks.

It was preposterous. How a girl so petite, timid and feeble-looking could ever be considered sane enough if she dared even entertain the thought of claiming herself to be a blacksmith apprentice. . .

Souji could make no sense of it. She certainly did not appear demented enough to his eyes to barge in other people's shops and make impossible claims or fabricate illogical stories. On the contrary, the way she looked, _excited_ his senses very much.

She was quite short, even shorter than Heisuke, which was a feat by itself. Her shiny chestnut colored hair was held into a low ponytail and reached up until the middle of her small back. Her impossibly huge –for a girl so tiny- innocent and eloquent eyes blinked at him teasingly under her bangs. She was looking at him in evident fright with eyes so wide and sweet and lips so sensually forming a small troubled pout that he felt the ardent need to devour her right away. He wouldn't put it past himself to do so, really, if a little further provoked.

His eyes drifted low starting from the bottom; from her small feet, bare against the floor, her long flowing skirt that revealed nothing of her legs, to the cute little sash-like belt that was wrapped around her small waist and then . . . to her navel and flat creamy colored abdomen. Soon he was shamelessly and blatantly staring at her chest, that was –unfortunately for Souji- generously covered by her breast-band. His expert eyes could easily measure her size and his lecherous mind could not help but imagine how it would feel to~

_That's freaking enough! _ He was the one to scold himself this time. If this continued this small shopping expenditure could conclude very very _badly._

But, damn! Did she have any idea how cute she looked? How did Sannan-san allow her to receive costumers without fearing that she would be ravaged by scoundrels?

"Apprentice?" Heisuke parroted in disbelief.

Chizuru was somewhat certain since the very beginning that they would blatantly question the verity of her claims. She mentally scolded herself for revealing this, quite sensitive for her own sake, information to strangers. But what exactly should she had said?

If she did not defend her place somehow, they would most probably haul her to the Guard themselves for. . . probably some kind of a hideous crime she would never even have imagined of committing.

To her defense, the men seemed to be acquainted with Sannan-san. Why else would the man ask for him personally, despite the fact that they gave the impression that they visited the shop for the first time -at least for the first time in a while-? Hence, she probably did not commit that much of a blunder, right? Hopefully not.

Besides, she did not want to lose precious costumers, simply because of her own coyness and idiocy. Chizuru was also responsible for the prosperity of this Blacksmith store. It was her duty to serve and satisfy the clients' needs to the best of her abilities as equally as Sannan-san's was. Perhaps even more so, since she had owed the man a great deal already for taking her in and allowing her to study under his wing for so long without voicing a single complaint.

"Y-yes. I. . . I understand this must seem quite shocking to you, but I can help you with your purchases here. Please trust me," she finally dared offer. Three pairs of probing eyes watched her every move curiously, almost obtrusively. None of them uttered out a word, thus Chizuru decided to regard their silence as a demand and request to inquire further. "Uhm, could you please be kind enough to tell me what you might need?" She tried to curl her lips into a kind prompting smile. But she received no answer yet again.

Maybe, they really wanted to leave. . .

A moment later she heaved another deep, painful sigh. "If you wish to leave and come back when Sannan-san returns, please go on. Just don't let my presence deter you. I promise I _really can_ be of help to you with my services. If you still do not-"

"Of course we want your services, right Heisuke?" The man that was probably named Souji grinned cockily and turned to his friend expectantly.

The one the girl presumed was called Heisuke regarded Chizuru in an unsettling for her manner one more time. Under his questioning gaze she felt the intense need to shrivel and disappear, but, in the end, she luckily somehow managed to firmly hold onto her place and not retreat. She even thought she saw the boy gulp awkwardly, but what he did next surprised her even more greatly.

"That's alright, I guess. Could you have a look at this for me?" he said and presented her with a sheathed blade.

She didn't hesitate to lift her hands in order to pick it up; a blatant display of her intimacy and love for swords. But he, on the other hand, was obviously quite reluctant to hand her the weapon. She could tell, because he did so very slowly and carefully. It felt nearly insulting and painfully obvious that he was not particularly willing to trust her yet.

Chizuru could not be entirely sure, but she weakly presumed she spotted them looking at her expectantly, watching closely and searchingly for her next move. She could almost feel their unsettling gazes tingling her bare skin. Perhaps this was. . . their way of putting her abilities to a test. And Yukimura Chizuru was not about to let all those years of apprenticeship go to waste under the weight of this sudden and unexpected –definitely calamitous, she now knew- encounter. She would _force_ them to concede the troth of her talent, if needed.

She swiftly but firmly grabbed the scabbard and moved behind the front counter, where a wooden surface was specifically placed for assessing the blades.

She curled her, tingling to touch the blade, fingers around the hilt decisively, delicately, and drew the katana from its casing in one swift elegant motion. She had no way of knowing if the men blinked or even if they tried to prevent her from drawing, but she had a vague feeling they attempted doing neither. In a tacit display of expertise she brought the blade before her eyes, still holding the scabbard with one hand.

She expertly whipped her eyes slightly to the side in order to give a meticulous gauging glance at the black casing she was holding on her left hand and carefully placed it back on the counter. She then grasped the katana with her dominant hand, the right, and after measuring the hilt and arm-guard she set her eyes on the eroded blade itself. Chizuru turned it again and again, also lifting her, now unoccupied, left hand to inspect more closely.

She finally exhaled. "I am afraid that this blade is no longer strong enough to battle other blades. I am sorry," she announced her evaluation and slowly placed the sword on the wooden testing board.

The man that handed her the blade, who she now could remember was called Heisuke by his companions, sighed deeply. "I figured," he breathed out in surrender.

She considered the numerous possibilities for a second and deliberated over the matter twice over, but finally decided to ask. "Please forgive my impudent question," she tentatively started. He raised his eyes to stare at her curiously. "Is this, perhaps, the great sword Kazusanosuke Kaneshige?"

Her eyes were rarely deceived. But this blade was rather famous, perhaps _too_ famous to end up in this store for maintenance, Chizuru believed.

The sudden flouncing of the sword's owner was probably the only evidence and information she needed as an answer on the matter.

"You know about swords." It was a statement, not a question. And it came from none other than the first man that spoke, the indigo-haired one. "Kazusanosuke Kaneshige is a rather famous blade. But few could recognize it in such a quick glance."

She wasn't completely certain about their exact nature, but it felt like the man meant those words as compliment.

She only inclined her head in thanks and turned towards the other man. "Is it safe to assume that you are in need of a new blade, sir?"

Heisuke blinked thrice in puzzlement and titled his head to the side. At the spectacle Chizuru involuntarily blinked too and directed the confusion veiling his eyes back to the young man. Did she perhaps say something she was not supposed to?

"Oh wait!" He suddenly clapped his hands together. "You called _me_ sir?" He gaped for a moment, pointing a finger at his own chest. At Chizuru's innocent silence he cackled loudly.

Chizuru, after breathing out a sigh, furrowed her brows and casted her gaze downwards. _What was so funny? _She certainly did not commit that much of a blunder, did she?

The man's cackle was finally interrupted and forced to cease ridiculing her only after the green-eyed one nudged him with great force at the ribs. "You are being rude."

Heisuke exasperatedly furrowed his eyebrows at Souji. A second later, forcibly prompted by the other man's glacial glower, Heisuke had abruptly stopped laughing and straightened his posture, locking his beautiful questioning hues directly at the girl. She was fidgeting nervously, feeling evidently uncomfortable. "Oh," he exclaimed upon noticing her despondency. "Sorry about that," he offered his apologies right after he finally managed to stabilize his breathing pattern. "It was just too weird to be called 'sir'," he rushed to offer a proper explanation for his improper behavior. "My name is Toudou Heisuke. You should use that."

It was Chizuru's rightful turn to tilt her head in confusion. Peculiar was the only word close enough to describing what she wished to comment on the matter. Only a moment ago he was making fun of her. But now his smile seemed so candid, disarmingly honest and innocently kind it made her feel immensely guilty for even entertaining the thought that he was aiming to make her uncomfortable before. It was indeed very strange to think that she would feel remorseful over feeling ridiculed. It made no sense at all.

The long haired costumer, though, was admittedly gracious enough as to honor her with a proper introduction. It would be preposterous to say the least not to acknowledge the offering of his name.

"As you wish, Toudou-san." Chizuru bowed respectfully.

But Heisuke only frowned. "Ya know, maybe Toudou-san sounds bad as well. Just call me Heisuke. You look like we are about the same age anyway." He broke into a mirthful smile. "Your name?"

She felt her cheeks warming up at the question and at the sheer excitement laced in his jovial voice. "Ehm," she cleared her throat, "Chizuru. Yukimura Chizuru. But I am afraid I have to call you Toudou-san if-"

"Please don't! Just Heisuke is fine. And very nice to meet you, Chizuru." He flashed another beautiful smile radiating a strong sense of soft heart-warming enthusiasm and cordiality, and stretched his hand, calloused by gripping the sword, in greetings. She was still very reluctant to shake it. "I promise I won't bite," he insisted and smiled even more widely. It was impossible for Chizuru to vehemently resist any longer. She slowly moved and grazed his fingers with her own, still hesitant. He somehow understood her unease, though, and graciously pretended he paid no heed to her nearly palpable discomfort.

"He-Heisuke-_san,_ then?" she dared utter out, immensely embarrassed by her own audacity.

His smirk widened even more greatly, if possible. "Sounds kinda better, but I think –kun is more sw-" His sentence was caught in his throat midway when an unbidden fist came to land on his head forcefully.

"Oi, Souji! What the hell? I almost bit my tongue, you bastard!"

"No flirting with the lady, Heisuke-_kun,_" he snarled curtly and punctuated the honorific mockingly and tauntingly.

A tactful but firm and decisive cough, aiming to call everyone back in line, suddenly boomed, demanding Chizuru's undivided attention. "Since Sannan-san is not here I shall direct the question to you. Do you think your shop is capable of forging a blade as similar in efficiency with Kazusanosuke Kaneshige as possible?" the blue-eyed man, whose name Chizuru vaguely remembered must have been Hajime, abruptly returned to the matter at hand.

"I am certain we could _try,_" Chizuru promised and tilted her head to the side gently. "I understand if you still do not trust my abilities. So, ehmm," the need to prove a point suddenly emerged from within her, "if you wish to assess my work yourself, please do not hesitate to have a look at the katana at your left."

"Oi, oi!" Heisuke suddenly exclaimed and then coughed twice awkwardly. The abrupt force of his -now characteristic- tone almost made her leap in surprise. "Just a second! I think I misunderstood. Damn, it sounded for a moment like you forge the blades _yourself,_" he laughed teasingly, snorting at his naivety.

Pregnant silence met his question until Chizuru hesitantly nodded, cheeks colored a sweet bright pink.

Heisuke gulped and gawked stupidly, eyes widened in shock as he lifted a trembling hand to point at her in honest disbelief. "Se- _Seriously_?"

"You mean those blades right there," the green-eyed man pointed and arched his eyebrows incredulously, "_You _were the one who forged them?" He emphasized more profusely. "For real?"

She nibbled at her lower lip nervously and her face contorted in systole before answering. "Y-yes."

"Not Sannan-san?" the third man further probed.

Chizuru rushed to rectify. "I-I am his apprentice. I follow Sannan-san's forging style. But, yes, the ones on display are mostly mine. This one here and these," she pointed at the most glorious and beautiful blades that adorned the walls and the lintel of the door, "and those are Sannan-san's works."

After all Sannan-san's swords were always immediately sold out to rich admirers of his unique masterful style. Her own works could never be compared to his. And because he was so talented, his own blades were put on a special display and were always bought right away by rich Noblemen. His masterpieces never stood a chance to remain at the store for a long period of time.

Before she could finish her explanation the three men rushed to the side, nearing the swords on display in order to pick up one blade each and hold them curiously, carefully and quietly assessing.

The man named Souji promptly nudged the indigo-haired one at the forearm and wordlessly gestured towards the blade he had previously taken hold of. After a positive nod of his friend, Souji turned to Chizuru and raised his brows meaningfully. She understood his silent request and nodded affirmatively.

In the most impressive manner she had ever witnessed, the blade was unsheathed and measured thoroughly in the versatile and apt hands of –undoubtedly so- an expert. He _must_ have been an expert. How could he wield a blade with such grace otherwise?

A moment after he had handed the katana to Hajime to properly test as well and turned to Chizuru once more.

"That's a fine piece of metal." He smirked cockily as he padded towards her. And it alarmingly and frightfully felt as though a dangerous panther was making his calculating move towards capturing his prey. A panther with bright emerald eyes, glowing like crystals under the sunlight. "Do tell us, though," he started and leaned over the counter, closer to her than she could have ever hoped to handle, "How do you manage to forge those blades and this small body of yours," he let his green eyes shamelessly roam her for a second, "does not bear a single burn or graze, hm?"

She opened her mouth. Then closed it again. She was at a total loss of words. A whirlwind of restlessness and doubt over her own sense of hearing was spinning furiously inside her mind; and she was completely unable to offer a final conclusion to this whirlwind's unsettling incursion. The burning mayhem returned to assail the inside of her throat once more.

What he claimed was far from the truth. Her slender fingers and petite hands had suffered greatly all these years. Could he not see the grazes the same way they tinkled at her eyes every time her gaze rested on her hands? Chizuru, however, could still vividly recollect the nearly blinding ail she felt due to the passing onslaught of the flickering flames and sharp edges of the weapons she forged.

She felt her body wincing as she deliberated over her answer. So that's why Sen claimed that she wouldn't be able to stand a single chance and defend her ground in front of courting men. What scared her, though, was that the sense of unease did not feel _completely_ unpleasant.

Her breath hitched and was shortly caught inside her throat once more. A -currently mostly unidentified in its nature- sense of fear gripped her young heart. _What am I thinking?_

She was soon salvaged by an enthusiastic cry. "This is it! This is perfect!" Heisuke exclaimed and reverently picked up a sword currently sheathed in its black and yellow scabbard, adorned with a very beautiful leaf design Chizuru clearly remembered took her hours to get the way she desired.

"What's this baby's name?"

She hesitated at first, unsure of who or what he was referring to. Ashamed by this preposterous trail of thought she had followed, she shook her head to gather her musings and offered her answer, "It doesn't have one yet. I do not usually bestow names to blades. I feel. . . like I am not entitled to such a right. Without a definite owner to belong to, its name would only indicate half of the blade's strength. If you decide to make this blade yours, I would be most delighted to hear a name of your choosing for this katana."

It probably was a result of her imagination running wild, but she thought she saw Toudou's cheeks burning brilliantly red. "Can I take some time to think about it?"

Chizuru nodded gently. "But of course. Does that mean that you decided on this one sword?"

His immediate answer was to lift it and embrace it softly as if holding a fragile child. "The weight is perfect. The length is the same as my previous sword's and the design is awesome. So, yes. I want this one."

Two steady taps were heard battling the floor as the other man stepped forth and neared Heisuke. "May I have a closer look?" he inquired.

"Sure, Hajime-kun." He handed him the sword carefully. It was quite evident in Chizuru's eyes that both men trusted their indigo-haired companion with issues concerning blades, since the green-eyed one had also presented Hajime the previous sword to evaluate. It made Chizuru wonder what his background really was for him to appear so knowledgeable on the subject.

In the midst of the gleeful atmosphere caused by Heisuke's enthusiasm, Chizuru had shoved at the back of her head the fact that, actually, the man named Souji had yet to move from his previous place and he was still leaning _unduly_ closely to her.

When she turned to him, she was able to see that he, all this time, was watching, peering over at her very intently. This very intensity of his gaze had her quail and wince. She felt her body uncontrollably retreat just a little to the back on pure instinct.

He surely noticed her obvious unease. But he pretended he paid no heed and, instead, grinned in a cunning, cocky manner. He then proceeded to offer her one more playful wink.

She could feel her thumping heart flutter erratically for many long beats. Chizuru was finally drawn back into reality only after an enthusiastic rambunctious exclamation chimed inside her ears.

"So!" Heisuke neared and placed the sword of his choice, after it passed Hajime's assessment with flying colors, in front of Chizuru. "Can I have it wrapped?" he joked. But Chizuru, in a spontaneous moment of mirth, decided to comply and wrap the sword and scabbard in not only the custom cloth, but in a red ribbon as well. Toudou chuckled at the spectacle.

"Many thanks! How much do I owe ya, Chizuru?"

She informed him of the required amount and he soon offered the proper coins, which she gladly and gently accepted.

"I thank you for making your purchases in our shop," she gracefully offered the man a thanking curtsey. She needed to accentuate her appreciation for him finally putting such a great deal of trust to her sword-making abilities as to ultimately buy a sword forged by her own delicate hands.

Heisuke shook his head. "Nuh, I should be thanking you! This blade is so good it feels like it was made just for me, ya know."

Chizuru laughed endearingly and meekly, her low ponytail flowed gently, brushing over her ivory-colored neck in order to settle over her left shoulder as she titled her head to the side. "I am glad you think so."

Heisuke took his new sword in one hand and carefully picked up his destroyed Kaneshige with the other. His eyes drifted back and forth over the entire length of it and finally stilled upon the blade, fogged with incomparable sadness, that ultimately reached even Chizuru's compassionate heart.

"Ehm," she leaned just a little bit closer, suddenly minding little of the rashness of the decision that led her utter those next words. "If that could offer some kind of comfort to you," she started, poking her fingers together nervously again as her eyes slipped away from the man and dropped downwards. "Would it please you if I could sharpen it enough to put into display? I mean . . . Kazusanosuke Kaneshige cannot be used in battle anymore, but that doesn't mean that you need to throw it away."

Blue-green eyes blinked at her in confusion. She rushed to explain properly, embarrassment creeping up her voice. "It will be free of charge if you wish. It's just too sad to see such a fine blade and its owner being torn apart like this."

Many moments of silence elapsed. The momentary stillness of the scene was only breached when Souji and Hajime exchanged meaningful and all-too-knowing glances.

"You would do that for me?" Heisuke wondered incredulously.

Chizuru nodded slowly once more. "If you want me to, of course."

His mouth opened widely, but no words slipped past his lips for many long seconds. Until he clapped his hands twice, "Why would I _not_ want that?' and jolted in -impossible to suppress- glee. "_Man_, you are an angel, ya know that?"

She had to gulp twice not to squeak or bolt out of the room in embarrassment. "Only," she tentatively hurried to explain, "I might need to delay it a bit. There has been a considerable amount of new orders that need to be-"

"Don't stress yourself!" he yelped, interjecting her, while raising dismissive hands. "I won't mind if you have it ready_ a month_ later, even. What matters to me is to have my old sword alive with me. . . _somehow." _He allowed a sad grimace to settle on his face upon thinking of the prospect of bidding Kaneshige a definite farewell. He shortly after shook his head, retrieving back his previous smile and dismissing the grim and bleak thought he just dared to consider._  
_

"I think. . ." her meek voice trailed off as she lifted a hand to rest under her chin skeptically, pensively. "My rough estimation is that your Kaneshige should be ready in one week. Is that fine with you, Toudou-san?"

"Totally!" he excitedly exclaimed, but lightly frowned again the next second. "I told ya to call me Heisuke, didn't I? Well, anyway, thanks a bunch, Chizuru." He was the one to bow his head this time and shortly straightened again. "So, see ya in one week from now?" he stretched his hand once more over the counter to reach her and greet. This one time she took it far more willingly and shook gently.

"Yes. In one week."

"I am looking forward to it!' Heisuke happily responded to her finally being willing enough to offer a handshake by shaking his own hand far more enthusiastically and put his Kaneshige back on the wooden evaluating board. Chizuru, after being released from his firm hand picked the famous blade up reverently and wrapped it gently around a cloth, placing it at the far left to move to her workshop later on.

"Ready!" Heisuke exclaimed needlessly and happily sauntered towards the exit, snickering at his two friends and placing his hands leisurely behind his head. His blue-green hues comically widened at that very second and a pout came to settle over his lips the moment he realized he was still holding his new sword in hand. He brought his arms down to his chest, cursing himself for being stupid enough as to endanger hitting his head with the weapon and finally secured it on his sash.

The man, who Chizuru presumed was called Hajime, shook his head and after sighing at his friend's shenanigans he promptly veered to properly face Chizuru, offering a generous, kind curtsey. "We appreciate your services."

"I thank you for making your purchases here," she insisted once more and bowed graciously in return as the man padded after Heisuke, offering a probably degrading comment, since Heisuke grimaced and yammered to him while he exited the shop.

"Hm, Heisuke is always in such a hurry," Souji complained and pouted. "Don't pick up his quirks, Hajime-kun," he jokingly called to his taciturn friend who turned to regard him for a moment. Hajime heaved an understanding sigh and shortly took the step he needed in order to follow Heisuke outside.

Souji kept his brows furrowed for a moment, contemplating about Hajime's meaningful glance. He blinked once, deciding against pondering about it any longer than necessary and then turned to Chizuru, who was silently batting her eyes in puzzlement at the man's unexplained stillness.

He offered her an impish radiant smile. "I guess I'll see you around, yes?" he paused only to lean close again and drawled teasingly "Chizuru_-chan_?" purposely dragging out the last syllable.

The nearly sensual and blatantly teasing manner in which he uttered and punctuated her name involuntarily instigated a waterfall of shivers to cascade down her spine. Her knees were only a breath away from finally surrendering beneath her. She needed to gulp twice and wet her lips before she could speak up and articulate sentences properly. "Y-yes. Ha-have a nice day," she gulped again and bowed her head, her bangs suddenly moved to conceal her beautiful maroon eyes.

And with a last fleeting parting nod, he had bolted away only a second afterwards, hurrying after the other two.

**.**

Souji hated to admit it. He refused to. But he _really did_ wish to have an excuse to visit again. And at the same time he had wanted to storm out of this place from the very moment he had entered. Because, _Kami help him and his soul,_ if he stayed there any longer, submitted under the stifling presence of such a cute little pout like the one this girl wore. He very well knew he needed to stay put and behave accordingly and in a seemly manner, but this promise proved highly difficult to keep in this _chibi_ lady's presence.

He had strangely been almost saddened that Heisuke, _the fool_, decided so soon on a new katana. The moment she offered to take care of Kaneshige was the moment his green eyes brimmed with mirth. For that meant that he had a chance, even an indirect one, since it was, after all, Heisuke's order, to visit again.

_Fuck! _He abruptly halted in his tracks, only very distantly registering that Heisuke and Hajime continued marching on undeterred and that his sudden standstill only acted to accentuate their distance.

It completely evaded his mind to ask her to have a look at his own katana, which was partially the reason he decided to tag along in the first place. A very wide smile spread over Souji's lips. No matter. Now he even had a solid, legitimate and plausible excuse to pay a visit sooner than he had initially intended.

After all, he also had yet to properly introduce himself by offering her his name. Who knew? Maybe Fates had decided to be playful again and graced him the chance to be entertained, provided that the girl was positively -and even _maniacally_, he hoped, like so many others- interested in his _services_ in return.

Flashing another impish smirk and chortling gleefully he hastened again to follow the other Captains.

* * *

_**Hakama**_**:**_ Japanese garment worn much like pants._

_**Kazusanosuke Kaneshige**: According to my research there are two possible options for this name. One is that Heisuke's_ _sword was made by Kazusa no suke Kaneshige, who was a swordmaker under the patronage of the Tsu domain. This option also acts to strengthen the following argument: that such a sword would be difficult for a mere rōnin to obtain, even by heritage, which is one of the evidence we have that Heisuke was the illegitimate son of Toudou Takayuki, the lord of the Tsu Domain. Second is that the name of the actual sword was Kazusanosuke Kaneshige. Wikipedia supports the first claim, which probably is the correct one. Either way Kazusanosuke Kaneshige is connected with Toudou Heisuke.  
_

_**Chibi:** Little_

* * *

**Author's Note**

* * *

_I was so nervous about this chapter. The first time I started typing I thought I was more or less satisfied, but after re-reading again and again I always found something to nag about. I hope you liked it, at least! I think it's also the longest yet.  
_

_Poor Chizuru...she has to sit on the front once and this what she gets... A triple-powered storm of bishounen! _(^.^)_  
_

_I am sorry that the first paragraphs were so description-heavy but ... I needed that. I purposely omitted to write an adequate description of the men and Chizuru up until this point, because... I sincerely thought the best way to describe the men is through Chizuru's eyes and vice versa. I hope you didn't skip that part, because their attires are not the same as they are in the series. Especially Saito's. I couldn't just leave him torturing himself in his black kimono and scarf in a Dessert Land! :P I was inspired for their clothes by, of course, their original attire and some images I happened to find from the game "Hakuouki: Warriors of the Shinsengumi"/ "Hakuouki Bakumatsu Mushouroku". I am no good at giving clothes descriptions, really...sorry about that. I shall try my best to improve!_

_Another thing. I do not know if I was able to make that clear yet, but Souji does not yet have very noble intentions towards Chizuru, so to speak, the rascal! :P As I said before to someone, he needs to be groomed and trimmed properly first._ (^.~)

_Oh,_** OniKuShita**_'s last kind comment reminded me that I forgot to mention in my last note that I was greatly inspired by the Drama CD 'Sword Appraisal' for this scene. To be honest, at first it was not intentional but then I realized I was unconsciously madly affected by it. You can read it over at _**tokio fujita**_'s live journal! That's were I found it.  
_

_Before I go, I have to inform you that the next chapter make take a little bit longer to publish, because I've been sick lately and just could not write they way I wanted to. I had no mental or physical strength for that, I fear.  
_

_Thanks for reading! Please be kind enough to leave a comment or two. It means the world to me to know that you somehow enjoyed the chapter!  
_


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you_** 5namida, Wings of Silver Wishes, OniKuShita, ****Entiya, ****alohamiems **_and_ **fallingwisteria **_for your reviews!_

_Special Thanks to lovely _**5namida**_ for beta-reading!_

_The Theme Song for the first scene is _**Okita Souji Theme **_from the_ Hakuouki OST_. Remember, that's not the Character Song. It's his Theme and it's an instrumental piece. _

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hakuoki.

* * *

**Fiery Green**

**~Chapter 6~**

* * *

A dashing, foxy and impetuous smile tingled his senses. It was impossible to thwart its course as it swiftly rose to stand and play about his lips wickedly, gracing his expression with an unmatched sensation of radiating mirth and blithe. The usual glint of mischief was shining in his green eyes far more vividly, twin flickering fires athirst for new exciting vicissitudes.

From the very moment his hues fluttered open to welcome the new morning, his lips were spread into a smug grin. A very urgent need to frolic around and surrender into vapid frivolity ruled over his mind. But not in the_ conventional _and customary way. He had no desire to visit the places he normally frequented.

The reason that caused this need to suddenly emerge was not yet clearly formed in his mind. It was still a quite blurry image, but Souji was not daunted at all by this -quite negligible, if you asked him- fact; the haziness of the situation hardly demanded his attention or concern. He needed no justification for his actions, especially when those aforementioned actions did not concern at all the Royal Guard's affairs and were strictly private.

Hijikata-san, though, would have most likely been greatly opposed to such a belief. After all, he insistently claimed that a Royal Guard's member way of conduct was indicative of the image they all retained and the respect the entirety of the Crops demanded from the Edo citizens. If an officer, and most especially a Division Captain, did not handle his public _and_ private affairs with care and moderation, the man was not worthy of such an honor or right. He would be immediately relieved from his duties as a member of the Royal Guard of Edo. Impertinent behavior and frivolities must always be eschewed, under any circumstances. That is what Hijikata-san would most likely claim vehemently.

In all honesty, Souji never paused to contemplate and deliberate over his wants for a very long period of time. If he wished to frisk and gallivant, that was exactly what he would do.

Many -Hijikata-san undoubtedly included- would probably regard this behavior as very unwise, unbecoming, and imprudent. But Souji never hesitated to surrender to it, nonetheless. For he believed he rightfully earned the right to be frivolous through sacrificing his blood and sweat after many long years of suffering.

Being a Division Captain was a position that was accompanied by advantages and disadvantages. The most apparent of drawbacks was danger. No man of the Royal Guard could ever be certain he would live to breathe for another day, sight another sunrise, feel the heat of the sun, the roughness of the sand as it kissed their bare skin. Protect Royalty. Protect Edo. A mantra that danced about on everyone's lips and closed eyelids. It was duty, honor, a way of life.

Souji did not particularly mind those drawbacks. It was an essential price to pay. On the contrary, he cherished the agony that came hand in hand with his post. For ever since years long passed he had set his mind into a very steady and clear objective.

Because. . .

He had known pain; in all forms and degrees of intensity. Emotional or physical, slight or severe and blinding. He was well aware of the ferocious power it commanded over human beings.

He was -_gloriously and ceremoniously,_ dared he deride- introduced to emotional pain the day his Father passed away. He inwardly grieved for this painful loss, but dared not utter a single word. And Souji confronted pain yet again the day his Mother promptly followed her devoted deceased spouse. Once again he spoke nothing.

Inwardly Souji contemplated and debated over if he was even entitled to mourn in the first place; inwardly or otherwise. His sisters lamented for days. Should he rue too, then? Ultimately he did not, choosing to justify this decision by using the mere fact and claim that he was the first-born son of the Okita Household. The youngest offspring, yes. But also the lone male, the strong only-son, the last pillar of the Okita Family, regardless of his young age.

The threads connecting his emotions with his body were precariously on the very cusp of being irrevocably severed the moment his older sister, Mitsu, had entrusted him -most literally _bulldozed_ him, as a matter of fact, and without, of course, his given consent or personal opinion on the matter being taken into consideration at all- into the Fencing Hall, named Shieikan; the place from which the Royal Guard came to be born, the place where he met Kondou-san.

He truly came to abhor his sister and her new husband for abandoning him like a leaf into the fire. Rustled as he might, no one was able to hear his cries of despair. Perhaps he was not hollering loud enough. Perhaps. . . Would it have made any difference if he had, really? Not that Souji would complain at this point in his life. Quite the contrary actually. Still, his question remained unanswered.

Those threads were finally miraculously mended by a man, who Souji initially vehemently despised; Kondou Isami. He could recollect this very moment at any given point and played it over and over again as clearly as if it had transpired only moments ago.

His green eyes drifted over and peered at the young instructor's honest brown hues, finally for the first time in a proper manner, that hid no repugnance or rancor, only after his first fencing match that brought Souji victory. His first win. His first honest smile. And it all begun the moment Kondou-san hugged him tightly and cordially whispered candid words of respect and care and benevolence and love and trust. . . in response to Souji's previous defiance and denial, _"Please leave me be. It's annoying."_

This man embraced _Souji, _accepted him for what he truly was. And yet the only thing Souji could offer in return was. . .nothing.

Thus, he had adamantly decided. He would be a blade. A sword cutting every single one of Kondou-san's enemies. For that was the only thing Souji deserved, was entitled, worthy to do. He had no pure heart. Despite the fact that Kondou-san vehemently believed otherwise, Souji was simply a soulless killing tool.

He was secretly _and _openly elated when the worth of Shieikan was recognized. He shared Kondou-san's bliss when the news reached the Compound. They were chosen as the Guardians of the King; a newly constructed troops constituted by some of the most capable Swordsmen of Edo.

At that point he could not possibly have predicted how greatly his life would change. He finally transformed from a good-for-nothing kid, into a sword genius and from there on into the infamous and feared First Division Captain of the Royal Guard, Okita Souji.

He acquired what he never even considered he would be able to have. All because of Kondou-san and his honest endeavors and passion into making the boys of the Shieikan the Captains of the Royal Guard of Edo. Souji chuckled at these thoughts. There was also Hijikata-san. Without his cunningness none of these impossible dreams could have ever been realized; that he could not deny, but he could not openly admit either.

Hence, the disadvantages of his job did little to faze Souji. After all, his –impure- heart had battled pain and death numerous times before.

The advantages of being a Division Captain, like adrenaline, adventure, honor, authority, stipend, trusted friends, women, drinks, _those _were what truly led to his current blissful state.

Now, after suffering for a seemingly incessant amount of time, Souji finally had everything; except time to relish. Maybe that very last detail was the reason why an unfaltering part of his was always left unsatisfied and inane, besmirched by bleakness, basking in the deepest darkness that had always been raging endlessly and hypnotically inside his heart; _not soul_. He had none of that peculiar. . . _thing. . ._ called soul. Even if he possessed something akin to a soul once, then he had already relinquished it a long time ago. That is what Souji honestly believed.

* * *

"Souji! Is it really Souji?" a man exclaimed in obvious enthusiasm as the green-eyed Captain padded down the hallway. Okita halted at the call and neared the open door only to spot a very familiar figure. "You're early today! Where are ya heading off to?" Nagakura asked and grabbed a sumptuous looking apple from the plate on the table before him, stretching his long toned legs over the furniture in a manner which their Vice Commander would probably consider enough incentive to warrant a very harsh punishment in return_, if_ he was present.

Okita shrugged playfully and chuckled before answering. "You know, Shinpachi-san, the usual. The day is nice, the flowers have bloomed, the birds are chirping-"

"Oi, oi, oi.!" The other man swallowed down his bite with a facetious gulp. "It's the middle of the summer! Last time I checked most of the flowers had withered from dehydration and the last bird I saw was lying _freaking dead_ on the patio. The day is _too_ damn hot. Don't tell me you are going for a _walk_ of all things?" He raised his thick eyebrows incredulously, spitting out the core of the fruit boorishly.

"You know, Shinpachi, the fact that you have no dates does not mean that others shouldn't either. Can't you see this ridiculous grin of his? I bet my wallet that Souji is off to see a lass," Sano guffawed, crossing his legs and stretching his arms in a lax, laid-back manner, careful enough not to spread himself over the table like Shinpachi did a moment ago.

Okita's green eyes whipped to the side to tryst the golden eyes of the, up until then silent, Tenth Division Captain. "Oo, Sano-san reads me like an open book." Souji rubbed the nape of his neck jokingly and flashed another one of his impish smiles.

Shinpachi gaped comically, "Seriously? Damn!" he cursed and grabbed another fruit from the basket. "Vu suld av tol me, Vu iviot!" Which probably translated to "You should have told me, you idiot."

Souji lifted his hands in front of his chest emphatically and shook his head once. "I can't even grasp one word you said, Shinpachi-san." Shinpachi gave an undignified grunt and cursed some more, casting a sideways stubborn glare at his comrade, but did not attempt to explain further.

Harada snorted loudly. He shook his head tauntingly at Shinpachi's antics and promptly veered towards the other Captain. He winked meaningfully to him and suddenly hurled towards Souji one of the delicious fruits, effectively saving it from Shinpachi's clutches at the very last second.

Souji masterfully caught the apple with one hand and brought it close to his lips, taking a generous bite, murmuring a hardly audible or comprehensible appreciative hum. He faintly shook his head at Sanosuke as thanks.

Shinpachi furrowed his eyebrows, blue green eyes narrowed dangerously into slits, but soon decided in favor of pointing nothing of this peculiar exchange out. Instead, he bit on another apple in order to -apparently- prove, mostly to himself, that this _treacherous abduction_ did not concern him at all. Ultimately, his efforts failed, as he was unable to inhibit the need to glower fiercely at his red-haired friend in rebuttal.

Sanosuke broke into an all-too-knowing smirk, only sparing an askance glance towards Shinpachi, and shortly directed his attention to Okita again. "Good luck. Have some fun for me too."

Souji bit once more before answering, "No way, Sano-san," he paused to swallow. "You have your own harem to choose from. Each man for his own. I don't like to share goodies, you know. I can accommodate Shinpachi-san and offer him a gal or two I have to spare. But you are too popular. No hard feelings, ne?"

A quite lengthy, pregnant silence ensued. And it offered the Second Division Captain the time he needed to register what actually had been said against him. Shinpachi finally gaped dramatically and comically at the other man in shock, not expecting at all this sudden implied insult that assailed him out of the blue in such a crooked _unmanly_ manner. He slammed his fist atop the table and, with his mouth worryingly full of the fruit he just bit into, mumbled something the other men were not able to fully decipher.

Sano laughed tauntingly once more and gave a parting nod, while a furious Shinpachi yelped and yammered childishly, waving his hands indignantly and a smirking Souji turned on his heel and waved goodbye, finally exiting the room.

* * *

Why? Why did she feel so oddly restless and breathless and awkward and nervous and enthusiastic and tired at the same time?

She squeezed her eyes shut and slowly released a forgotten long deep breath, that up until then had been unconsciously held incarcerated inside her lungs.

Cursing her idiocy, she finally realized that the reason she felt so tired out was rather obvious. She had been working the entire night. The lights of flames and the smoke had strained her eyes in more ways than she could count or even feel at the same time. Not to mention that her small but adept fingers hurt from constantly gripping the hammer, despite the fact that she had made sure she wore thick gloves the entire time.

Sannan-san was undoubtedly right. The workload was much more hefty that she had predicted and expected.

She lifted her equally tortured, maybe even more so than her eyes, hands and rubbed violently, trying to shove any remnants of drowsiness and weariness away from her hues. To no avail, though.

Before she could even realize and not seeking her opinion at all, as expected, the night morphed into day and the numerous glimmering stars disappeared, giving their place to a, rather familiar to all, light blue canvas.

Still, she did not retain the right to rest. It was her own stubbornness and tenacity that caused her to spend the night working, rather than sleeping. Her duty towards Sannan-san and their customers could not be affected by her own foolishness. She had no right to mix the two. It was her own fault, her own responsibility. And Chizuru was determined to see every one of her responsibilities to a proper end with no excuses. She reaped what she had sowed.

But it was nearly impossible to completely conceal the blatant signs of her tiredness and fatigue. Such was her tiredness, that she had no mental or physical strength to stand upright any longer. She plopped down at her chair sloppily and groggily as if surrendering to invisible ropes, stretching her rigid limbs as far as she felt possible.

However, resting was clearly _not_ an option. She had to remind herself this particular detail insistently. Again and again, until she could properly digest the concept. No time to repose, no time to remain idle.

Heaving a deep sigh, she massaged her temples, pinched the bridge of her nose and then shook her head around. She impulsively dipped her fingers to the bowl she used to dampen the cleaning cloths meant for work and splashed her face.

She needed a moment to register what exactly she had done. Mentally slapping herself for using the dirty water to rejuvenate her face –partly without success- she stretched and stretched every muscle of her body until she heard her bones scream in protest.

Now that the sunlight was abundant enough, she could also devote her efforts on many orders she could not even touch under the dim light of the night torches. She properly straightened her sitting posture and firmly decided to focus on the intricate Dragon drawing she needed to portray on the crimson casing. She was determined to finish this order today; it had tortured her enough already.

She faintly registered the fact that she heard the entrance bell chime, but paid no further heed. Sannan-san would surely take care of it. She gently gripped on her new brush and visualized the image before dripping her tool in the black paint.

* * *

"Okita-kun?" the man blinked incredulously upon carefully regarding his new costumer. The man who entered darted his very characteristic smile and from this point onwards Sannan had no doubt this man was, indeed, Okita Souji. "It has been a while since I last saw you in these parts of town," he noted and bowed his head respectfully in greetings as Souji neared the counter.

"Sannan-san, it's been a while, yes," Souji confirmed, only offering a curt nod in response to Sannan's respectful bow.

"Certainly. How have you been?" the blacksmith probed and titled his head to the side, eyeing the other man even more closely.

"Hm, you know," Souji shrugged, "The usual."

Sannan felt his lips curling up into a weak but cordial smile. "Is everyone in the troops healthy?" he inquired.

Souji sneered playfully. "Very much healthy. And most of them annoying," he interjected himself for a moment, lifting a hand to rest under his chin. "Well, expect from Kondou-san. He is healthy, yes, but not annoying."

Sannan-san chuckled at the boy's antics and promptly resumed gathering information on his past comrades. "What about Hijikata-kun?"

Okita grimaced. "Our Oni Fukucho is as healthy as a horse, I fear."

Sannan muffled a laugh at the last words. "Please pass everyone my best regards."

"Will do," Souji promised, allowing his eyes to momentarily drift around the room searchingly.

"And you, Okita-kun?" The man's call brought Souji back into properly facing the shop owner. "If you ask me, you look like your usual jovial self."

Souji lightly snorted. "Fine, fine," he answered leisurely. "Just enjoying life, I guess."

"That is certainly good to hear. So, what might bring you in my shop today? Maintenance?" the sword technician dared voice a simple conjecture.

Okita sighed. He was frankly quite disappointed. He half-expected the little lady to show up and greet him. But, after thinking a little more soberly, he decided in favor of the opinion that claimed his encounter with Sannan-san was probably fortunate. After all, he needed-

"My pretty boy needs sharpening. Could you have a look?" he said and ungirded his katana. He carefully handed the blade to the blacksmith, who promptly unsheathed it. Expert, pedantic eyes roamed the blade meticulously for a couple of short moments.

"I see. You are taking very good care of it, Okita-kun. As expected. A little professional maintenance is all your sword needs." Souji nodded faintly, while Sannan sheathed and wrapped the katana along its scabbard into a cloth.

"Say," Souji started and Sannan immediately raised his gaze to firmly meet his. The First Division Captain blinked incredulously at his own incomprehensible actions. Truly unable to decipher what maniacally swiveled inside his head, he failed to thwart his next words. "I was meaning to ask you. About your apprentice. . ." he blurted out in one rushed breath, cursing himself for the apparent folly behind his actions. He was being blatantly open about his intentions. And Souji knew for a fact that Sannan-san could sniff away any of Souji's schemes before even Souji himself could properly devise them, without so much as devoting the best of his efforts. Such was the level of cunningness that Sannan Keisuke was well renowned of mastering.

Sannan's lips stretched into a small knowing smile. "You mean Yukimura-kun. Are you perhaps acquainted?" he pushed his glasses up his nose and raised his eyebrows meaningfully and questioningly.

Souji shook his head. "Hardly. I just met her yesterday. Heisuke, Hajime-kun and I came here to pick a sword. Kaneshige is done for."

Sannan's brown eyes widened and flickered in realization. "That explains why I presumed I saw Kazusanosuke Kaneshige at the back. I trust Toudou-kun chose a suitable blade for replacement."

"Think so. It looked pretty steady to me," Souji admitted while shifting his weight from one leg to another. "Is it really true that the gal makes those blades?" he dared finally ask, feigning simple honest and innocent curiosity. Which, as a matter of fact, was not completely a part of his act. After all, he indeed was very curious about this matter; just not entirely innocent.

Sannan chuckled knowingly. "That is correct. She is very talented, yes?" Souji insisted into offering his shrugging as a response. The blacksmith's calculating and trained dark hues peered at the younger man curiously. He concluded in one or two things silently, but still dared not disclose them to Okita.

"Do you perhaps, prefer that _she_ does the sharpening, Okita-kun?" Souji's green eyes snapped to nearly glare at the man. Sannan resumed unperturbed. "I had intended to have it done myself, but normally is Yukimura-kun that is responsible for the sharpening. Would you like me to entrust your blade to her?"

Souji lifted his hands to fold in front of his chest. "My blade is my soul," he offered in a rare moment of unadulterated honesty. After all, there was no use to keep secrets from Sannan-san when it concerned blades. "If you trust this_ chibi_ into handling it with care, I don't see why not. You're the blacksmith. I am the costumer."

Dark eyebrows furrowed. "Very nice and diplomatic answer," commented Sannan and scribbled something down on a piece of paper, which he placed on the cloth wrapped around Souji's blade. "I trust you need your katana ready for usage as soon as possible, correct?"

Souji offered a crooked smile. "You know very well how it goes, Sannan-san. I _always_ need my katana ready as soon as possible."

Sannan nodded and placed the sword at his right. "Did you, by any chance, inform my apprentice that you are of the Royal Guard?" he asked curiously and glanced at Okita for a moment, before directing his attention back onto his counter and tools in a continuously rehearsed, almost lackluster manner.

Souji furrowed his eyebrows slightly. "I don't think we did, really," he honestly answered, contemplating over the matter for a second and deliberating over his response. He snorted inwardly at himself. _Of course they didn't._ Heisuke was the sole man who introduced himself properly. But, Souji was certain, upon recalling the scene, Heisuke offered only his name and nothing else on the matter.

Sannan nodded. "That explains it. She would have specifically told me if she knew three Division Captains visited our humble shop."

_Tang!_

As if on cue, emerald green eyes abruptly whipped away from the owner to incriminatingly stare at the hidden room behind Sannan, exactly the moment a very distinct metal sound echoed from the back of the store; a sound that Souji felt besought him to direct his attention towards the source. But the rear room was covered by long thick curtains, and thus Souji could not immediately pinpoint the noise or the culprit.

Sannan inclined his head to the side meaningfully. "Do you wish me to call for her, Okita-kun?"

Souji opened his mouth. For no other reason than to deny this _offer_. But no words came out. Perhaps he should rejoice that his treacherous tongue did not agree vehemently instead. How much more incriminating would that be, really.

Sannan, though, did not wait for his response. He veered slightly and called, "Yukimura-kun, could you please come and pick up a blade? We need it sharpened promptly."

A short silent moment elapsed. A characteristic metal sound boomed once more before the response was finally given.

"Yes, of course!" Souji could hear a high-pitched female voice replying.

He could not stem the smirk that spread upon his lips the moment she made her appearance.

She looked almost exactly like he remembered. Perhaps a little messier-looking and more visibly tired this time around. Small, tiny even, and cute with those huge brown eyes that faced the world so innocently. Her hair was now tied into a high ponytail in contrast to her yesterday's low one. Unfortunately for him, she wore a –thankfully still nicely fitting- dark apron. Probably used for work, Souji dared make a guess.

"Oh!" she yelped weakly and blinked upon setting her eyes at him. Chizuru felt the air in her lungs still awkwardly yet again at the man's overwhelming presence. "G-Good morning," Chizuru finally managed to greet, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear nervously.

Souji's expression suddenly brightened curiously. "How do you do? Chizuru-chan is it?" By her cute little blush he knew he recalled the name correctly.

Sannan masterfully feigned ignorance, inhibiting a cunning devious smirk. "Oya, are you acquainted with Okita-kun, Yukimura-kun?" he turned to the girl, arching an inquiring eyebrow.

Chizuru nibbled at her lower lip before shaking her head vehemently. "N-no, sir. I first encountered him yesterday when he came by to purchase a blade." Her voice barely reached levels loud enough to be heard.

The blacksmith snickered. "Then, allow me to properly introduce you," he proposed. "Okita-kun, this is my apprentice, Yukimura Chizuru. Yukimura-kun, this is Okita Souji of the Royal Guard, a dear acquaintance of mine."

Chizuru was rather certain her eyes were precariously close, just at the very cusp, of blowing up from their sockets at that very moment. "R-R-Royal G-Guard?" she yelped and almost choked, trying to properly articulate in vain with voice rasp, shaking in disbelief.

_That's why. . ._That's why Toudou-san owned the famous blade Kazusanosuke Kaneshige! That explains the peculiar air with which those men carried themselves the day before, their knowledge about blades, the gracious wielding of them, the distinct peculiar clothing, the. . . the. . .

How. . .how dared she offer her pitiful services to members of the Royal Guard? What. . .what would his Division Captain or even his Commander say upon hearing that his men were catered by a silly, claiming-to-be-a-blacksmith-apprentice girl? _Oh, goodness._

"I am so terribly sorry!" she bowed so profusely it was a wonder that her nose did not make contact with the floor. "I apologize for my ignorance and impudence! Had I known you were of the Royal Guard I-"

"What _would_ you have done?" Souji challenged, "Bring forth the red carpet?" he groaned dryly. "That's reserved only for kings, Chizuru-chan. We deserve no special treatment. Don't ya worry. Your services were obviously appreciated yesterday," he smiled encouragingly and nodded for her to raise her head, attempting to eliminate her obvious reservations and apprehension. After all, he did not need her to be so greatly reserved and cautious in order to see his devious plans to realization; quite the contrary actually. A devilish smile settled on his face upon regarding the blatantly embarrassed petite apprentice.

She slowly and hesitantly, like a doe, raised her beautiful eyes. That, though, proved to be the bane of her existence. For the moment she met his gaze, his enticing emerald hues grasped her in a net more stifling -and so unexpectedly pleasant at the same time- that commanded a power so compelling she could never have been able to even faintly imagine in her short life-time.

_H-How-?_

"Yukimura-kun," the other man present called for her attention. By instinct alone she responded to her teacher's and benefactor's voice and whipped her head towards his direction. "Had you left any order unfinished when I called for you?"

She flinched a little before answering. "Only the one which we needed the new brushes for. The scabbard still needs some details done."

"Could it wait for a few minutes? Okita-kun needs his blade prepared as fast as possible."

Chizuru batted her eyes in puzzlement. _Oh, yes._ Being a member of the Royal Guard, he probably needed his katana more direly and urgently than any other costumer. She understood she could not allow herself to let the man wait, while he most likely had an important duty to carry out.

At the same time she felt very perplexed. A peculiar question sauntered across her mind. Why didn't he ask for maintenance the day before? Chizuru was mostly certain all three men carried swords, so he probably had his with him yesterday.

She gulped and cleared her throat. "Of course. Should I begin now?"

"If possible, yes."

Chizuru nodded affirmatively to her Master and asked. "And the blade in question?" Sannan kindly gestured at the counter. The katana was lying just before her very eyes.

Embarrassed at being caught lacking closer attention, she lowered her gaze and picked up the blade reverently.

However humiliating it was, Chizuru felt obliged to inquire, "May I ask you to please be patient for ten minutes? I am afraid this is the fastest I can work," she offered a nearly pleading -almost apologetic- gaze at the green-eyed man only for a fraction of a moment. Soon her maroon beautiful hues were tenaciously refusing to regard anything but the blade in her small hands.

Souji flashed a lackadaisical smile upon noticing her systole. "I don't mind. I'll wait."

Her blush inexplicably deepened. Feigning she was not at all affected by it, Chizuru bowed in thanks for his understanding, nibbling at her lips in nervousness yet again. Shoving any remnants of her weariness into temporary oblivion, she willed her legs to move and bolted out of the room in a flash. Without wasting a single precious second she placed the blade on the counter of her workshop. She read the small note Sannan-san had written regarding this particular sword's maintenance and un-wrapped the cloth around it.

She was met with a beautiful and shining ebony scabbard and an equally dark hilt, embellished with red details. She carefully unsheathed, measuring the weight and length with her dexterous hands and ran over to her sharpening tools.

She returned exactly ten minutes later, looking breathless and disheveled. Inside, though, she felt very much satisfied, a whirlwind of anticipation and restrained contentment swelling madly inside of her. Her work was done diligently and perfectly. The fact that the blade itself was well taken care of by the owner was also a contributing factor.

"Finished," she breathed out and bravely -for Chizuru's standards- presented Okita with his blade.

For a very fleeting and yet incessantly lasting moment, he pinned her down to the floor with his intense dashing green hues. Heaving out a sharp breath, he moved his hands towards Chizuru's, breaking their eye-contact only at the very last second before their fingers could brush against each other.

He took an expertly firm and decisive grip of the sword and drew the hilt away from the casing. Emerald orbs settled over the length of weapon, gauging the glimmering steel pedantically. He exhaled appreciatively as he brought the katana closer and inspected her work more thoroughly, turning the blade around and testing it using a few swift moves.

He paid no verbal comment, but the unmistakable appearance of a ghost of a smile upon his lips was enough for Chizuru to praise herself mentally a little. He was most likely satisfied.

"If I may," she tentatively started and felt a pair of eyes holding her in place even more firmly than before. Under this green sheen of light that overwhelmed her so, she needed to heave out a long breath in order to somehow stir the air inside her lungs, ordering it to move. A peculiar throb-like sentiment assailed her, impossible to place, impossible to recognize, impossible to point out its nature, source of cause of its appearance. It came and left like a transient breeze. There one second, gone the next. "You are keeping your blade in excellent state. The work wouldn't have been done so soon if not for the care and devotion you put on your sword."

He arched his auburn eyebrows in surprise and wordlessly put the sword back in its place. Until-

"I am nothing but a blade myself. How could I not take care of my own weapon?" he muttered lowly, words scarcely louder than a breath. On sharp contrast with his quiet voice, just a molten caress, he shortly attempted to muffle a very loud -and Chizuru thought awkward- cough, probably in order to erase the importance of what he just only uttered.

Chizuru fazed great difficulty into properly hearing and registering the definition -the very offering even- of his words. She thought she grasped the general meaning. But it made no sense to her whatsoever. She must have misunderstood or perhaps misheard after all.

Souji suddenly turned to the other man. "What do I owe you, Sannan-san?" Okita asked and soon offered the required sum.

Chizuru had remained frozen in place for many long seconds. What exactly she had been waiting for was a mystery even to her.

What surprised her even more than the fact that she was frozen in place by an unknown force, was the hurried and nervous manner in which Okita bid goodbye to Sannan-san and bolted out of the store without sparing her a single glance.

* * *

Just what _was_ that?

This peculiar searing sensation that woke and erupted from within him and impugned invisible foes inside his troubled mind, brewing like a ferocious whirlwind, a sharp storm accompanied by nearly blinding pain; a provoking assail, a force he was unable to control and order to yield under neither his intellectual nor physical prowess.

And an outlandish, uncanny. . . _something_ . . . that exploded the moment she handed him his precious sword and offered those ridiculously innocent words of praise.

_That something_ was the least of his worries, for it was combined with a stifling sensation of something painfully unknown and yet so maddeningly familiar; a pain that suddenly emerged from the deepest pits of his lungs and threatened to travel up his throat, leaving him breathless and irked beyond human belief.

He had presumed he had succeeded -after vehemently trying- to shove any remembrance he had of this awful ail into oblivion. Sadly, this was now proved only wishful thinking.

Thankfully, he did not allow himself to succumb under his uneasiness and irritation and continued trudging forwards in a false display of power and resolve, that Souji was confident he could not at all command or muster at this particular moment.

And, unfortunately, this silent assumption of his was soon confirmed when the very unnervingly familiar and completely unbidden taste of blood rose like bile in his throat and rendered his every limb weak and void of any power.

Despite that,_ he walked._

* * *

**Author's Note**

* * *

_Egh. . . I hope Souji's sad past was enough for you to forgive him -a little- for acting like he does. His behavior is mostly a result of the many hardships he's been through. It's not that he just enjoys being a bastard -Oh wait! Maybe he does a little- _

_Especially that last part... __Don't hate me for it! _(^.^') _We are going to see more about that soon and his early life at some point. Hm,__ Souji's past in this fic is nearly identical to his real past, so, in a strange way, this story is not entirely AU, hehe _(^.~) _  
_

_Last but not least, Sannan. It's heavily insinuated that he is not just acquainted with the members of the Royal Guard *coughs*  
_

_Oh and one last thing. . . I know there are many silent readers out there. May I, please, ask you to drop a comment or two once in while? _(^.^')_ You can't imagine how much it would mean to me to know you are enjoying what you are reading. Do not get me wrong, I am bouncing around like a fuzzball for the support I receive from all of you in any way. But if so many people don't comment, I have no way to know if I am going a decent job with this story at all, or even if I should continue the way I do now. Don't be shy! I'll welcome you with open arms! \_(^.^)/_ Please, don't feel pressured, though._

_Again, thank you to those who are generously leaving reviews to almost every chapter I publish and also to those who chose to kindly PM me their thoughts about the latest chapter! _(^.~)

_Thanks for reading! I will try to update as soon as possible. And holidays are coming, which means more time to write! _(^.^) _In case I won't be able to update until the 25th, I wish you Merry Christmas (if you celebrate) and Happy Holidays. May you always be happy and succeed in everything you do in your lives. Lots of Love!  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_ Thank you_** 5namida, OniKuShita, Jinxes, Alohamiems**_, _**Guest 2,** **fallingwisteria, ****U know who **_(I do know)_ _and_** Kokoro-chizu chan **_for your lovely reviews. I greatly appreciate that silent readers, too, were kind enough to leave me with their thoughts.  
_

_Special Thanks to sweet _**5namida **_for beta-reading!_

_Please make sure to check out the new story I posted called 'Worth Fighting For", if you like. It's a joined project with beautiful _**Pookax.**_ If you happen to hold any loving feelings towards Disney and the beautiful characters of Hakuoki, please, do not hesitate to give our story a chance. I'd be most delighted if people can enjoy reading 'Worth Fighting For' as much we enjoy writing it together!_**_  
_**

_This chapter is dedicated to lovely _**Wings of Silver Wishes,**_ for gifting me and this humble story with the amazing **Fanart** you can clearly see now as the story's cover image. I honestly cried tears of joy when I first took a glimpse of it. Their expressive eyes, especially Souji's look, Chizuru's cute blushing, their hair, their clothes...are simply amazing. I can't thank her enough for honoring me with this beautiful piece of work. Thank you!_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hakuoki.

* * *

**Fiery Green**

**~Chapter 7~**

* * *

The intense need for Chizuru to roll her eyes dramatically for the umpteenth time today emerged yet again. She had devoted her greatest of efforts and made a point of continuously ignoring Sen at the best of her abilities. But, regardless of her endeavors, her friend was, unfortunately, too brisk and vivid and persistent to avoid. Heaving a sigh, Chizuru ultimately made peace with the nagging feeling she felt overwhelming her; a feeling that signaled she would face great difficulty at shaking Senhime off no matter how greatly she might strive to do so.

"Your answer is still pending," Sen intoned playfully, but Chizuru only veered abruptly to fix her with an arid glare.

"If you do not wish me to refuse right away, you better start allowing me to take a breather. I promised I would think about it, didn't I?" she nearly huffed, a quite uncustomary thing for Chizuru to do, and tore her gaze away to still upon the metal blade at her hands.

Sen shrugged, flashing a prudent but mirthful smile. "You did. But that means nothing in your case. If I leave you be, you will just be left enthralled by your work and think nothing of my offer. I know you, Chizuru-chan. Therefore, I decided to come and give you a little nudge."

Chizuru stubbornly crossed her arms across her chest, shoving the unfinished katana to the side. "No, no! Our deal was that you would not bother me any longer, as long as I would promise to think about it," she countered, eyes narrowing at her friend briefly.

Chizuru admittedly abhorred being coerced to, even momentarily, neglect her work. Sen undoubtedly knew of Chizuru's feelings pertaining her work and nature as a blacksmith apprentice. And yet, there she was, making insistent demands. What could be so pressing as to warrant such persistence? Chizuru had already agreed to deliberate over the matter carefully. Despite that fact that she had given her word, Sen did not hesitate to travel around the capital only to, seemingly, demand an agreeable, for her, response out of Chizuru. It hardly made sense.

Sen clicked her tongue, pulled a strand of hair behind her ear and offered a quite imperious rebuttal to her friend. "How could you even entertain the idea that _I _would leave everything completely to fate? Or your quirks?" There we go with the quirks again, Chizuru mused angrily, breaking into a wry smile of frustration. "Besides, I am not bothering you, am I?"

Chizuru slanted her eyebrows upwards and once again narrowed her eyes at her friend emphatically, "Do you wish for an honest answer?" Sen gasped at the retort, eliciting a teasing snicker from Chizuru because of her baffled and incredulous expression. Chizuru shook her head, trying to put an end at her chuckling.

Sen only pouted and clasped her hands together. "Chizuru-chan, you are mean," she accused and pivoted away from Chizuru, who was still unable to conceal her amusement at Sen's antics. Sen titled her head and poked her tongue out, tapping her fingers against the counter's surface. Upon observing the packages dutifully arranged on the table, she decided to question, "Are you perhaps in a hurry to leave? Is that why you are trying to shake me off?"

Chizuru chuckled once more. "Don't put it like that. I like your company. _Usually,_" she teased. "And I would like you being here even more if you weren't trying to coerce me to participate in the Mangetsu Cotillion. If you continue to push me like that I might reconsider even _attending_ the festival."

Chizuru could no longer withhold her, certainly unexpected, cunning, toothy grin. She very well knew that those last words she uttered could only act to stress the matter more and put Sen in greater alarm and concern. For, Sen already knew, convincing Chizuru to actually participate in the Dance was a brave deed by itself to accomplish. If the result of her endeavors was Chizuru overall refusing to attend the festival, Sen would probably need to devise countermeasures to not, under any circumstances, allow such atrocity to happen.

Sen glared vehemently and arched a fine eyebrow. "Is that a threat, young lady?" she pouted emphatically, glowering at the -usually coy- brunette. In a rare display of her amusement and need to peeve her friend further Chizuru gloated comically. Sen's retort was to lash out, trapping Chizuru into a stifling –but nonetheless sweet- embrace, prompting both of them to cackle. "Moo, Chizuru-chan, please! Do it for me. . ." she dawdled.

"Hmmm, maybe," Chizuru chirped, "If you stop pestering me."

Sen grimaced and scowled in an un-lady-like manner, finally releasing the other girl. "Fine," she rolled her tongue out playfully. Chizuru laughed again at the facetious display. Her laughter, though, was abruptly paused midway at the vehement order of a sudden inner realization that emerged when she accidentally glimpsed at her counter.

"The orders! I have to go," she mumbled mostly to herself and hurriedly picked up the packages she needed to deliver, staggering across the room. Seemingly as an afterthought Chizuru halted in her tracks and veered to smile apologetically at Senhime, gesturing at the long boxes crammed in her arms meaningfully.

Sen heaved a sigh and waved jovially, stepping forward to signal she was also preparing to depart. "I will see you later then, Chizuru-chan."

* * *

This was not meant to resurface. It was not supposed to have awakened. He had presumed he detained it under strict control. And he _did_ detain it under control for a very long period of time. He was certain of it. Especially after the latest examination and the particularly strong dosage of medicine, which ascertained that it was not any longer contagious, he was more than ready to cavort around in mirth and chortle like a proper idiot. He deserved to celebrate, Souji had thought.

It was dutifully and deftly kept a secret; but a secret commanding power so fierce that even he had difficulty mastering and ordering to submission. Unfortunately, it was made painfully clear that he retained no _complete_ control, much to Souji's chagrin. This latest episode was the blatant proof. And it caused an impressively ferocious force of anger to swell up within Souji.

But, at least, he retained_ some _power to faintly stem its nearly unstoppable course. That's why he, promptly after returning, opened the cupboard next to his bed and retrieved the medicinal powder the Royal Guard's Doctor, Matsumoto Ryojun, had prescribed him the last time he was so cruelly submitted under this. . . _hell._ The mere thought only served to remind Okita that Matsumoto-sensei _and strictly only Matsumoto-sensei_ was allowed to be aware of his condition and that he should continue devoting his utmost, especially now that hell itself had surged forth and returned to haunt him, into concealing the truth from any other person around him; regardless if the person was prying of his state of health or not.

Thus, three days after, Souji could not help but rejoice. After consuming the medicine, he felt strangely rejuvenated. His lungs did not bother him more than the usual levels he was long accustomed to suffer under. It was a cause for euphoria, for this meant he managed to -barely, yes, but still- parry the dreaded repercussions of that curse of an illness that had befallen him.

He was meaning to pay a kind visit to the Doctor and ask to be given stronger medication. After all, the erudite man had already, repeatedly, warned him and pleaded with Souji to visit frequently, especially should the symptoms returned, in which case he would need to be prescribed a stronger concoction. But patrolling duty -and if he wanted to be fair and honest, because he was being truant and procrastinated as well- caught up with Souji faster than he expected. Hence he was yet to grasp the proper chance to discuss any of this with Matsumoto-sensei and ask of him to examine him once more.

But that mattered not at this point. He was feeling _unduly_ fine, even elated, so that meant the medicine worked its wonders yet again.

He drew in voracious breaths and kept marching along his Division down the buzzing streets that brimmed with people of all ages. Until, his bright jade eyes caught the most pleasurable picture he could ever ask for at this point. There was no doubt about it.

The_ chibi_ blacksmith apprentice was pacing down the same street, with a great sense of purpose and haste. Despite that it was evident to him she was in a hurry, Souji could not contain the sudden need to call and demand for her attention.

She must have paid at least _some_ heed around her to notice that the Royal Guard was patrolling. Their usual rounds around the capital were nothing new to fear. Beaming a –quite sinister- impish smile Souji mentally made note of the fact that she was not aware he was a Division Captain. Sannan-san only introduced him as a _member_ of the Royal Guard; which could easily mean he was simply an errand boy, even though Souji doubted the girl entertained this particular idea. His post had always served as a tool to aid him disperse and eliminate any last remaining doubts or reservations of any girl that happened upon his way. Grinning in mirth that this one trick was still held secret in his sleeve, he finalized his decision inwardly.

Souji gestured at one of his men silently to march on undeterred and sauntered sideways. Daringly and completely on purpose he put himself in her path in a manner very innocent and accidental looking; none would be able to blame him for doing this intentionally. She had no way to know that how she came upon his so suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, was perfectly designed and calculated. Well, _not completely_, but Souji was used to harnessing every chance he had happened to stumble upon to the best of his abilities.

Up until this certain point her gaze was lowered skeptically, a shadow, unable to place, was looming over the sweet features of her complexion. She could not have initially guessed who the person she had happened upon was. Until hazel hues snapped towards him.

"Yare, yare, if it isn't Chizuru-chan," he exclaimed jovially and grinned toothily, in a nearly predatory manner, quite declarative of his secret intentions. "Yo!" Souji waved.

She abruptly halted and tensed, suddenly plummeted under a waterfall of trepidation. She attempted to reign over her emotions immediately, but only partly in success. The manner in which she warmly –but awkwardly- smiled a forced smile at him was hardly indicative of the tremendous hordes of unknown senses that overwhelmed Chizuru's entire system the moment her gaze stilled and she directly regarded the man in front of her, peering over her curiously. Chizuru visibly paled and gulped.

"O-Okita-san," she stammered, praying to every god in the pantheon that she grasped his name right when Sannan-san introduced them. "G-G-Good morning . . ." Her voice froze in place inside her throat treacherously.

By now she was quite certain she retained every right in the world to be officially and publicly recognized as a social disaster full of stammering sentences. She oscillated between running away like a coward and continuing to be submitted under his piercing gaze that trapped her so definitely. She, definitely, was not prepared to deal with men as teasing as he had proved to be at the moment.

Souji pretended he paid no heed to her cute little stammering. O' how greatly he loved watching her sweet lips trembling, oddly parched sinfully, and eyes glimmering with unease and bewilderment. Such an innocent and pristine-looking creature she was. Souji was almost afraid someone else would beat him first and ravage her irrevocably. No, no. He shan't allow that to happen. Shortly after concluding on this conviction Souji had already pinpointed his goal and roughly designed his plan of approach.

"What brings you in the Marketplace? Shouldn't the young apprentice be cooped up in the ironworks and forge non-stop?" he asked and arched both his brows at her. Upon seeing her dazed expression he rushed to add, "Not that I complain seeing you here, though," Souji winked teasingly.

Chizuru gulped and gulped but this lump she so often found in her throat lately refused to be fazed and waver. She had to make use of every vestige of mental strength she had left stored not to fidget under his scrutinizing gaze.

"O-Orders!" she squeaked out and cleared her throat to speak properly after he chuckled at the spectacle. "I was sent . . . to deliver some packages," Chizuru explained hesitantly.

He titled his head to the side and eyed her from top to bottom. He heaved a sigh at the sight. She did not even wear this cute little tight apron of hers. Instead she had worn her traveling mantle. Not that he did not approve of these clothes, _in a way_. She would have been roasted alive under this sun if walking with the traditional Edo attire. Honestly, he preferred her goodies be concealed and left to imagination than seeing her cute little belly, small shoulders and capable hands being burnt bright red and her wincing in pain due to sunburns. He was not opposed to her wincing in _another kind _of pain, though. Provided he was the one inducing it.

He had to swallow hardly in order to contain the surge of emotions that suddenly erupted within him as _very very dirty_ thoughts sauntered across his sharp mind. He cleared his throat before speaking out, "I see you holding no packages, though," he noted almost indifferently, nonchalantly.

She clasped her hands together and rubbed them nervously, coyly refusing to meet his gaze. "I-I already delivered them."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Is that so? You surely work fast, Chizuru-chan," he stressed her name once more, purposely dragging out the last syllable in a very unforgivably teasing manner.

Hearing him uttering out her name in that tempting manner of his had by now been a repetitive challenge for Chizuru to suffer through. For, every time he did, she felt even more nervous and uncomfortable, prompted, and even coerced, to shiver under his smoldering eyes. Left flabbergasted, swallowed by the compelling hands of trepidation and fret, tension throttling her voice, drowned in disabling uncertainty towards the unknown depths of flattery, her thoughts a convoluted mess.

How was it possible? It was a simple mention of her name, and yet it roused her senses and claimed her breath away in an unforgivably ferocious manner. Was her weakness and social awkwardness that much extended and profound? Was it rational for her to lose the end of every last string of rational thinking she once had just because a -admittedly gorgeous- man spoke her name?

She anxiously nibbled at her lower lip for seemingly minutes before she managed to utter out a small affirmative, "Uuhm."

Souji laughed heartily. "You're pretty cute when you blush, you know that?" he resumed teasing mercilessly. Chizuru abruptly brought her palms to cup her two cheeks purely on instinct. Souji chortled triumphantly, allowing himself a short gloat. "Gotcha!" he bobbed his head to the side and winked alluringly once more.

"Moo, please stop teasing me," she managed to choke out her protest. Chizuru pouted and averted her gaze, crossing her arms over her chest nervously, furling with discomfort.

He, nonchalantly, shook his head slightly to get rid of a strand that hindered his eyesight and asked, "Say, you are heading towards your shop, yes?" She blinked twice in question, but nodded affirmatively nonetheless. "Good then. A young lady like yourself shouldn't be walking on the streets alone day or night. I shall escort you there, what do you say?"

Her eyes widened impossibly at this daring offer. At first, she was at a loss for words. Until- "No, no!" she shook both hands dismissively. "You needn't go out of your way for me. Besides, you are probably on duty and-"

"You worry too much, you know that?" he put and abrupt stop to her blabbering. "Stop worrying and follow me." He swiftly spun on his heels. His light blue haori, waving behind him like it had a life by itself, prompted Chizuru to stare intently at the spectacle, stilled in place purely in awe of his modest and yet overwhelming grandeur. So, such is the power a proper warrior commands! Such are the emotions of utter awe and admiration proper swordsmen instill in mundane people's hearts.

Chizuru gulped slowly and shook her head to gather her thoughts together. A moment after she managed to choke out a hurried word, "But!". Seeing him walking away, completely undeterred by her pronounced, albeit also silent, implores for him to halt and listen, decided to hurry after the man. She had to walk two steps at a time and trudge in order to catch up with his long strides. Upon sensing her nearing, Souji could only smirk sardonically.

She dared not walk by his side, as an equal. She had no right to. Chizuru was in no place to march beside a man of the Royal Guard. Instead she tentatively retained a safe distance, one and a half steps behind Souji. Her voice cracked repeatedly before finally managing to utter yet again, "Please, I have to insist, you don't need to-"

"And what if I told you that my patrolling rounds oblige me to take a look at these parts of the city? You don't know me well, so I forgive you this time, but you should know, Chizuru-chan," he turned to regard her intently, "I don't do stuff that are against my own personal interest. So stop worrying so much, it's annoying."

Chizuru abruptly halted in her tracks in shock and consternation. The last thing she ever wished for was to be considered annoying. And not to mention to an officer appointed by Royalty.

To her dismay and chagrin, she could clearly feel the prying, scrutinizing, acid-like stares of people as the bizarre duo passed by. What would anyone think, seeing a member of the Royal Guard almost _dragging _around a young girl? If Chizuru were to answer she would say that they would probably consider the girl a criminal, or, perhaps even worse for Chizuru, a prostitute meaning to serve the hard-working Officer hauling her around the streets.

She, pale as clean white smoke, sensed her eyes widen once more. She had to gulp –most likely in a very ridiculous manner- and present a great deal of effort in order to calm her erratic heartbeat and trembling breathing.

"Hmm? Do I smell, perhaps?" his characteristic beautiful voice suddenly boomed in her ears, stirring her into action and pulling her away from her thoughts. She distinctively registered the fact that he comically smelled his clothes to test this theory out. She blinked in confusion. "It's not that bad, I hope." He scowled emphatically, furrowing his eyebrows.

Many seconds elapsed for Chizuru to notice that he was addressing to her. She rushed to assure, "Oh, no! You- don't smell~!"

O' but he _did_ smell. Just not in the way he implied he did. He smelt so mesmerizing-ly beautifully and alluringly that Chizuru had to heave another sigh upon contemplating about it. It was a redolent smell impossible to describe or place. It smelt like. . . Okita-san. . .

"Really? Then why, pray tell, are you keeping so much distance between us, Chizuru-chan, hm?" he titled his head to the side questioningly watching her in amusement. Chizuru could only stare back at him in bewilderment for many lengthy minutes. Ultimately she needed him to specifically gesture to her to walk by his side to properly grasp the message he was trying to convey.

She hesitated at first, but his firm gaze allowed her no other egress. She made one first big stride and promptly willed her legs to move forwards in order to properly walk at his right, casting her anxious gaze away from him and towards the pavement in embarrassment.

Souji paid no comment to this. He knew he pushed her enough as it was by making her stand so close beside her will. He was sure just by looking at her that she was an innocent, demure little creature; probably inexperienced and completely entranced by the fact that she was honored enough to be appointed as Sannan-san's apprentice. He rarely had the chance to interact with girls like her before. Most of _her kind_ usually steered clear and away from him. After all he was a celebrated womanizer in almost every red-light district in these lands. Hence, in a way, he could not blame her for being fidgety around him. Maybe it was because of the air he emitted, Souji was not sure.

His poignant, naturally bestowed with curiosity, green eyes roamed her through and through one more time. It was an unconscious instinctive reaction he couldn't hope to gain any control over. That's when he heeded a very particular detail. He surely noticed back when they first met, but the fact that _this detail_ remained even now, spoke of many things for her personality and situation.

"You walk barefoot."

She suddenly raised her gaze and blinked repeatedly in confusion, so very innocently, with her big chocolate hues glowing suavely. She sucked in her bottom lip nervously and bit once with her front teeth. A second later she lowered her gaze again and stilled her eyes upon her own feet.

"Uhm, yes."

Was it improper perhaps? Rude? She had no way of knowing. She walked barefoot her entire life.

It was undoubtedly true that if one needed to cross the dessert that surrounded, enveloped Edo since years uncounted, they had no choice but to clad their feet in appropriate buskins. The heat of the sand was, admittedly, unbearable; a torture by itself even if one dared walk through it wearing sand-boots. To even consider crossing with no proper equipment was probably preposterous. For walking and wandering in town, though, being barefoot was anything but uncommon. Especially in these parts of Edo.

She could somewhat understand that people able to earn a place in the Royal Guard must be brought up quite differently from those that spend their lives in the slums; like Chizuru was. Not to mention, the characteristic clanking of sandals against the pavement was a unique harbinger, heralding the appearance of the mighty troops.

"I am truly sorry, Okita-san," she breathed out and bowed her head even more profusely. "I did not mean to offend you. But I-" _Never had enough money or time to worry about shoes_, she wanted to hurry and explain but was cut short.

"Offend _me_? How?" he blinked in honest puzzlement.

"Eh?" she batted her eyes at him in question.

He shrugged leisurely. "I simply thought it was weird. For a girl so feeble-looking, albeit a blacksmith, like you to walk around barefoot, it pains my heart. Your little feet could get hurt, you know."

She couldn't bring herself to decide. Should she laugh those words off? Should she feel insulted instead? Fazed? Should she feel . . . complimented? Or maybe storm out off the scene as soon as she possibly could?

In the end she, involuntarily, felt heated currents of scarlet blood assuming their place on her cheeks incriminatingly as she blushed a magnificent deep red and flinched visibly, unable to offer any words in return. She deliberated over her answer insistently, but still found no words to counter. Was that his purpose? One of his ploys to unsettle her, weave confusion over her, make her flush? Chizuru was in no place to know that. Soon enough she concluded that the one thing that could offer her some comfort right now was to remain utterly and completely silent.

A few minutes later they found themselves before the familiar Blacksmith Store. Chizuru, as if on cue, whirled and slowly raised her gaze only to, still very hesitantly and fleetingly, meet his. "I thank you. For escorting me here." She bowed deeply in respect. Instead of a proper response, she only heard him chuckle.

He inclined his head slightly in a slightly peeving manner, "My pleasure, Chizuru-chan." For a moment his jade eyes whipped away to his left to regard the store with a furtive glance and promptly returned to lock on her with a great sense of intensity. "I guess you have work to do. It pains me dearly, but I probably have to bid you goodbye. See you around?" he stressed the last words expectantly.

She couldn't miss the questioning hue laced in his words. And at this she felt the intense need to answer back. "Y-yes. I'll see you around, Okita-san," she uttered out, body irrevocably stilled for a moment.

The detailed memory of the scene that ensued evaded her later on. For she was entranced in a web of maddening senses she was unable to control or even escape from. They held their eyes locked for maybe an eternity; it was impossible to keep count at this point. Bothered by the intense need to breathe they finally moved simultaneously, as though they had rehearsed the scene already before.

Chizuru did not even have the chance to register in her mind how her feet had her whirl around and hide back into the store. But she did manage to register his very last parting words, "Take care, Chizuru-chan."

**.**

"Okita-kun?" a familiar voice woke him from his stupor. Frankly, he was not aware he was staring at her retreating figure until the voice made him slightly, faintly jolt. The cause of his apparent surprise was not the calling of the voice by itself, but the dreadfully familiar owner of it. Rationally considering the possibilities, he shouldn't have been startled to tryst the man here. Alas, the man's appearance had, unbeknownst to Souji, instilled very particular emotions into him since years long passed.

But, _damn, _he cursed thinking back of the way the girl disappeared behind the curtains of the shop's entrance. Something was terribly and very inexplicably familiar. The way she turned perhaps? It was cute, yes, but . . . was that it?

Oo! He bit at his bottom lip, and narrowed his green eyes into slits, finally able to place what exactly felt so_, _in a way, intimate. He was _damn sure_ he had ogled this one bottom at least once before. He was very, very, very sure. Even beneath her mantle, he could make out the general layout of her body with his scrutinizing incisive -and immensely trained to do so- hues.

But where did he encounter it before? She could not have frequented the same places he did. It was impossible. Then, when and where? On the streets? Perhaps. While on patrol he passed by many places, after all. He shrugged those last thoughts off and spun on his heel, only to tryst Sannan's sharp dark eyes.

"Yo, Sannan-san," he greeted and flashed a cocky smile. The capable blacksmith had his gaze stilled upon him for more moments than Okita would like. Measuring, calculating, scrutinizing, Souji nearly felt bare under this cunning gaze. Sannan-san was a very capable man, and even though he had long since retired, his battling skills would even push Okita Souji to the limits should the man so wished. He was not to be underestimated even by the renowned genius Souji admittedly was.

"Everything alright?" Souji finally managed to ask in great nonchalance.

Sannan cocked a probing eyebrow, sharp eyes nearly boring holes at Souji. "I should be directing this question back to you to answer, Okita-kun. Did anything happen, perhaps?"

Souji shrugged leisurely, feigning complete ignorance. "Not really."

"Are you sure?" Sannan pressed all-too-knowingly once more. "Is Yukimura-kun safe and alright?"

And then Souji finally –at least vaguely- thought he finalized where this conversation was heading and for what purpose. "The girl is fine. I just escorted her here. You should have known better, Sannan-san," he dared faintly chide the man to avoid certain implications. "Letting a cute little lady like her saunter around the streets... It's dangerous. You know that better than anyone."

"And that's precisely we, _civilians_, have you, the Royal Guard, looking out for us and the security of the streets, isn't that right?" Sannan emphasized his words with a little more fervor Souji would have expected of the man. He faintly scowled at the implied insult, which was not, practically, ungrounded. "If I may, Okita-kun-" Sannan neared to the other man and crossed his hands over his chest. "-This was rather careless of you. You escorted my apprentice here wearing the Asagiro haori. What would the neighbors and passing civilians make out of this? It was very unwise. Are you aware of the fact that you might have caused unnecessary rumors to spread around and disparage my shop? Neither I nor Yukimura-kun can afford this to happen."

_Eh?_

Souji was speechless. For once in his life he had no proper rebuttal to offer. The worst of all was that he was _freaking_ right. Damn! He only did what he did out of kindness and concern for the girl; not for bringing forth trouble for them. To be honest . . . maybe not only out of kindness. Souji admitted it himself to the girl only previously. He did not escort her here only because he wanted to be a kind and caring Guard. He retained many thoughts _and plans_ at the back of his mind pertaining the matter of the cute and tiny blacksmith girl. But, still, he had not intended for his plan to be so regrettably misunderstood in this manner.

"And what about your Division?" Sannan-san further admonished. "Is it proper for a Captain to abandon his troops only to escort a peasant girl, Okita-kun? Or perhaps did you wait for your patrol to meet its end first?"

Souji now felt _freakishly_ familiar with this admonishing manner in which Sannan-san offered his sharp words. Souji knew this _blackened_ tone and hated it with a passion. It made him feel like a brat. But what could he do now? Offer his apologies? Somehow this did not sit right with him at all, nor did it feel proper.

What surprised him even more profusely was Sannan's next move. He neared even more and leaned towards Okita's ear; a gesture initially covered in mystery before Souji's eyes. "Heed my warning, Okita-kun," he purposely whispered. "We may had been comrades, brothers in arms. And for that I hold great respect for you still. But, remember this, do not allow any harm to befall her. She is very precious to me."

And Souji could do or utter nothing as Sannan retreated back to his store and bid a curt goodbye. For many long moments he knew not what to make of this nor he could decide on how he should act from here onwards. What Souji did know was that he stormed away to meet with his men in great haste. And it very much felt as though he was a stray dog running with the tail between its legs. . . yet again.

* * *

**Author's Note**

* * *

_I love teasing Souji like that. He seems to be running away from the Blacksmith shop again and again, as though Chizuru herself unsettles him (oh, she does!). Maybe he should take that as a hint that he can't keep behaving like a proper jerk... Sannan also made an appearance. That man is - strangely protective, yes, but- hellishly cunning too, heed my words! I missed writing Sen, really... In fact, I missed writing Fiery Green in general. I am sorry for the delay. Holidays, my studies, one-shot ideas, other projects and a car accident, to top it all, kept me away from typing this story. I still have a few chapters planned ahead. I would like to finalize a thing or two before updating, but I am expecting my next update won't take too long. It also depends on my workload for University, so I apologize in advance for any delays._

_Thanks for reading! Your beautiful comments are much appreciated. __I'd love to know if you enjoyed the chapter. Your kind words are the fuel for my inspiration!  
_


End file.
